


Garlic Bread

by holyrobo



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anxiety Attacks, Comedy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Comedy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyrobo/pseuds/holyrobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo had been Team Jacob before all of this. Owain still curses the <i>Twilight Saga</i> for ruining his image, but Inigo is pretty sure he ruined that by himself.<br/>(Inigo/Vampire!Owain AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rules of Adulthood

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my head for a long, long time now and it's finally summer so I'm going to go wild with this.
> 
> To expand on the summary: Owain is possibly the world's shittiest vampire and Inigo is an anxious 23 year old trying his best.
> 
> (While I'm using their old names for this, Inigo and Owain are closer to their ages in Fates but there's no spoilers for that in this - don't worry!)

Inigo had come to realise that adult life was significantly less exciting than he thought it'd be. Somewhere in his adolescence, he'd become smitten with the disillusion that adulthood was true freedom, constantly engaging and most of all: fun. In reality, it was none of these things. In his five years of adulthood, he had formed two rules - the first being that "if it's not compulsory or doesn't offer blessed fleeting enjoyment, don't do it", and the second being that "whenever you have to do mundane, boring-looking adult things: take a snack". He'd sworn by his second rule many a time and would swear by it still for many years yet to come.

His current situation was something that his first rule existed for. He was stood at the window of his apartment living room, his bed-head possibly harbouring several small bird chicks and his soup-stained pyjama shirt was buttoned wrong and slipping off his shoulder. The scene on the ground below appeared to be something out of some kind of street performance (one that his internal monologue critiqued satirically while he sipped thoughtfully on his mug of lukewarm, almost forgotten about green tea) with a large, entirely black van taking centre stage. All of his knowledge of vehicle law came from awful cop shows with terrible post-production effects shown back to back on late night television, but he was convinced that the amount that the windows of said mysterious black van were tinted was illegal. Calling the police to report such an obvious crime was the morally right thing to do but it would also obliterate this morsel of entertainment that had been offered to him in his dismal, dreary adult life. The entire van was a dark as the void and reminded him of an ugly black beetle basking in the hot July haze. He considered pulling up a chair, curious to see what would happen next.

The back door of the van opened and out stepped a person dressed entirely in black carrying a very dark umbrella over their head, despite the fact that it was the middle of July and it wasn't raining and hadn't done so for a week now. Although Inigo’s eye sight was getting a little hazy, he could make out what looked like a cape on the persons back under the umbrella. Wondering if this really _was_ some kind of bizarre mid-morning street performance taking place directly outside of his home, he crossed his arms and squinted, trying to get a better look at the unfolding scene below.

A surly looking man emerged - this time from the drivers seat - dressed as if he was a waiter or butler with a white shirt, black bow tie and waistcoat. He, unlike the first figure, did not carry an umbrella, but instead, after a brisk, annoyed walk to the rear of the van, carried two large suitcases towards the apartment block reception. The caped figure followed behind him, their face hidden by the grossly inappropriate umbrella. A tense few minutes later, the butler reappeared, closed the rear doors of the van, waved towards the reception and hopped in the drivers seat before speeding off down the road into the distance. Inigo found himself pressed up against the window pane, straining to watch the black van vanish, moving away only when his breath fogged up the glass. Weird morning, he thought, half hoping the rest of his day wouldn't go like this because it'd be a pain, half hoping it would because it'd at least be entertaining.

 

He would find out very quickly later that this day and, in fact, many days to come, would fall in to the latter category. On his way back from grocery shopping at a little past 1PM, the mean, ageing lady who lived on the first floor (of a grand total of three floors, with Inigo having the top floor apartment) called him over with a gentle gesture of her grotesquely wrinkled hand. Seriously, Inigo thought as he plastered on a smile and walked over with his shopping in hand, he hoped he'd never live as long as to see his beloved hands become liver spotted and gnarled with age. She had been watering the potted plants she kept outside her apartment door when he'd walked into the building (which was entirely bad timing on his part, all he wanted to do was put his groceries away and watch amateur dance covers on YouTube. This was, after all, his only God-given day off from work) and now there was no escape. 

"Good afternoon, Inigo," she said with her crackly old woman voice; 'please stop talking to me,' Inigo thought. 

"The new tenant moved in upstairs this morning - I'm not sure if you saw," she continued, Inigo thinking only of how to end the conversation before he'd have to contribute to it and dreading the inevitable 'could you' he could feel coming. "My knees are shot now and stairs are impossible for me, but I made some jam earlier this week that I'd like to gift the new resident - keeping up appearances and all," she chuckled dryly, as if she didn't care about what she was saying. Inigo didn't either. He knew the 'could you' was about to be sprung on him. He thought about the emergency Adult Snack - a granola bar, most likely a few days past its best before - he had stuffed in his jean pocket earlier in the late morning. "Could you be a dear and run it down to them later for me?"

"Of course!" He could've won an Oscar for the smile on his face, "I was planning on showing my face anyway." A lie. "No problem at all." Another lie.

"Oh, wonderful, you are such a good boy," she replied, shuffling into her apartment at a speed that was incredibly slow for one so short on time left in this life. "I'll just go grab it," she said just before throwing in a racist comment about the person possibly living upstairs for good measure. He cringed at the fact that she was always racist at some point or other regarding others when speaking to him, but never said anything about his own heritage.

Five minutes later she returned with a jar of rather good looking homemade strawberry jam, as much as it pained Inigo to compliment the woman in any such way. He slipped it into a bag of groceries and took off upstairs to his own apartment, singing his sing-song goodbyes and 'see you laters' to his neighbour while she was within earshot and grumbling about her when she was out of it.

 

As much as he wanted to keep the jam for himself and as much as he didn't want to spend time visiting the second floor apartment, Inigo had nothing if not a sense of duty and honesty. And so he found himself at a little past 3PM with a glass jar of jam, topped with a tin lid and labelled prettily with 'Strawberry Jam' in the distinctive handwriting of an old person and a plastic takeaway tub, which once upon a time held chow mien or possibly egg-fried rice, of mango chutney - one of the few things his mother had taught him how to make that he could actually replicate with some success - labelled with a water-damaged sticky label and his own scrawl of 'Man Chut'. ‘Ah, yes,’ he thought, ‘the joys of adulthood.’ In truth, Inigo's handwriting was not all that bad. He had trained himself to write in cursive, but now saved that skill for love notes he would slip to girls occasionally to impress them. He hadn't counted on impressing anyone with his Man Chut, but alas, here he was.

With a firm clear of his throat (mostly to dislodge the rattling anxiety that'd settled there), Inigo gave a strong rap on the door to apartment two. A minute later the door was opened a crack and a pretty green eye appeared behind the chain, peering through it and seeking him out. Inigo's heart fluttered a little and a smile crept up onto his lips. Now that would be nice - having a cute neighbour! Maybe things were finally starting to look up for him.

"Can I help you, mortal? Or have you come to willingly sacrifice your juicy vessel to satisfy the mighty hunger of Odin Dark?"

Inigo watched his fantasy of falling in love with his cute new neighbour be slaughtered in front of his eyes. "Ah ha," he chucked, choosing not to ask over asking. "I'm Inigo from upstairs. Just thought I'd come introduce myself. I have some fruity freezable goods from myself and the ground floor witch."

" _A witch!?_ " The man behind the door shrieked. The loud noise caught Inigo off guard, causing him to almost drop the gifts in fright. "A joke! A joke," he cried, "she's not really a witch. She hasn't cursed me yet, I don't think." Though he wouldn't put it past her.

The eye looked him up and down and Inigo felt himself blush, his olive cheeks undoubtedly blooming into a crimson red at being inspected. The eye had obviously seen something it liked as the door opened fully, revealing a tall, skinny white guy around the same age as him dressed completely in black. Inigo noted his neighbours messy, short blonde hair and porcelain complexion, seemingly accentuated by the void that he donned. Even the apartment behind him seemed dimly lit, dreary and unwelcoming.

But alas, there was no getting around it. The man who stood before Inigo was his type to a tee. If only he hadn't have opened his mouth or dressed as if he was at a funeral - his ideal of falling in love with his cute neighbour could've been realised. In the space of their minute conversation Inigo had already gone through the five stages of grief. "May I come in, chap?" He asked cheerfully regardless of his sudden state of mourning. The man who had called himself Odin Dark seemed flustered, as if no one had ever asked him that before. After giving one last sceptical look (and making sure Inigo had seen said look) he nodded. "Hmph, consider yourself lucky, mortal, and welcome to the den of the legendary creature of the night, Odin Dark," he said, moving out of the way and gesturing Inigo to enter apartment two, which in the few hours it had been occupied by Odin Dark had already become a terrifyingly dank and gloomy place. "My name's Owain, by the way."

'Oh, boy,' Inigo thought.

*

There wasn't much furniture save for a cheap looking leather, probably pleather three-seat sofa (black) and an impressively large television to which various gaming consoles, many of which Inigo could not even name were hooked up to via a snakes nest of cables. Across the room Inigo spotted a large, full length black-framed mirror which took up a fair section of the wall. It was a shame that he couldn't see himself in it at this angle since the jeans he wore today always made his legs look especially long.

All of the light inside apartment two was now artificial - thick, heavy curtains (black) hung in front of the windows like perky prison guards. Owain shut the front door, slid the chain over the lock and stalked over to where Inigo stood awkwardly in the centre of the living room with Chut and Jam in hand, wondering if it'd be alright for him to sit down or not.

"The fruity goods?" Owain asked, eyeing Inigo's armful of welcome gifts. He breathed a nervous 'of course' and handed them over, watching as Owain proceeded to scrutinise the containers with all the professionalism of a very serious health inspector. "Is this so called 'Chut' of yours made with actual Man?" Inigo blushed up to his ears and shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "It's mango chutney."

"Ooh," Owain said. "And this, this dark Jam... Crimson like the freshly plucked heart of a wild oxen... This redness, surely it contains the pure, delicious blood of a virgin... As well as the witches own charmed Strawbs?"

Inigo realised that he hadn't the slightest idea about what Owain had just said and so he went with his default response of "you bet, chap." It seemed to please his neighbour as his eyes caught the artificial light and glinted with excitement.

"That's wonderful,” Owain purred, his demeanour changing suddenly as he began taking slow strides over to Inigo who was growing redder by the second. Was this guy coming onto him or something? In the weirdest way possible? 

"You see," Owain continued, "I haven't had a good feed since I graced this town with my awesome presence. I can't imagine that a mortal man, occupied body and spirit by the trivial follies of desire and temptation would comprehend the intensity of my hunger for fresh blood." Inigo was becoming increasingly concerned and he found himself taking a step back to distance himself from his eccentric, prowling neighbour. His calf bumped into the worn pleather sofa. "Though I planned to make every peon in this town my livestock from which I will feed as much as I like, I never thought that one of the flock would be as stupid as to wander right into my evil lair! Do you not care for the longevity of your life?" Inigo paled and wondered if he could take this guy in a fist fight. There were so many phrases that were flying over his head and his anxiety was sky rocketing. He cursed adult life for the millionth time that day. "Now fall upon the fell fangs of legendary vampire - Odin Dark!"

Owain suddenly sprung across the three feet gap that stood between the two men. Inigo let out a surprised scream as he felt Owain's icy cold hands push roughly on his shoulders and a pair of frosty lips on his neck as he tumbled backwards onto the sofa which squealed unhappily at the sudden weight it had to bear. Owain’s skinny thighs were now straddling him on the sofa, with one of his hands cupping his cheek and the other still pressing on his shoulders keeping him in place. His own hands were planted firmly on Owain’s chest, trying to prise the weirdo off of him. Inigo continued to shout and struggle in surprise and fear (even though when he would think about the incident later, he would not be able to deduce why exactly he had been so scared), screaming in the direction of the face that was practically attached to his neck via two thin lips. Inigo could feel teeth pressing on the delicate skin there and started to grow flushed and embarrassed. He was a melting pot of emotion and had no idea how to express all of them at once.

Owain suddenly leapt off of him, hissing like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his hands up in front of him with his fingernails (painted black and fashioned into weak looking points) bared as if he were about to scratch Inigo to death. " _You_! You fiend! Had I of known there'd be an attempt on my awesome immortal life by you I would never have granted thine permission to enter... Hunters truly are becoming more sophisticated with this modern age. I commend you for eating garlic before coming here, you bastard. You are not as stupid as you look it would seem, yet you are still no match for the immeasurable, fabled power of Odin Dark. You will feel the true extent of my legendary wrath.”

Inigo thought of the entire baguette stick of garlic bread he'd rather irresponsibly eaten before coming to visit. It was one of the things he's learnt quickly about adulthood when it was paired with living alone - balanced and healthily responsible meals ceased to exist. He thanked his culinary laziness for seemingly getting him out of a terrible pinch, though he didn’t quite understand how his garlic-y breath had possibly saved his life. "What the hell is your problem?" He breathed, exasperated and anxious beyond belief, his heart still racing from the terrifying experienced of being jumped by an emo under the pretence of having his blood sucked! He wanted to grab his Man Chut and get out of there.

Owain seemed offended at his ignorance. ”The mortal word you use for my clearly superior kind is 'vampire'. Do I have to spell it out for you? Let me ravish your neck and feast, Inigo from Upstairs!"

Suddenly Inigo was laughing, laughing so hard he thought he might cry. Inigo was still sunken into the sofa, weeping with laughter.  Owain stood a safe distance away with his mouth agape in a mix of surprise and offence as Inigo wiped his eyes with quivering cackles still erupting from his mouth, his arms shaking from the convulsing humour that rocked his body violently. "How _old_ are you?" He choked out, impressed at his own ability to speak regardless of his relentless giggles and snorts. "You can't be serious - _right_? You know _Twilight_ is a dead franchise now, _right_?"

Through hazy, teary eyes, Inigo watched Owain storm towards him with his blond brows knitted and his thin pale lips pulled down into the cutest frown he'd ever seen. A freezing cold hand gripped his own warm wrist and suddenly he found himself being dragged to the other side of the living room towards the mirror that hung on the wall. Inigo's giggles of protest dried up as he was turned to face the mirror, now able to see his (ravishing, if he did say so himself) reflection. But something was off. Owain, who stood next to him with his hand as cold as the night holding his own wrist, did not appear in the mirror. Only his clothes, a black shirt, black trousers and black collared cape stood next to him. A cold sweat doused Inigo's entire body and all of the humour in the situation dried up alarmingly fast. He watched himself in the reflection reach into his back pocket and take out his emergency snack.

"Ho-lee _shit_ ," he said as he took a bite of the granola bar.

 


	2. Inigo from Upstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin Dark vs. Inigo from Upstairs - an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter still counts as the "introduction chapter", but I've separated it into two chapters because I really like where the first chapter ends. I'm using my artistic licence.  
> By the way, when I write Owain's lines I listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUNOfNad59Q) creepy little ditty on repeat.

“So, let me get this straight,” Inigo said as he sat on the edge of Owain’s sofa with his hands held as if he was in prayer near to his mouth. “You are a vampire.”

Owain, who sat cross-legged at the other end of the sofa sulkily cradled his slowly bruising cheek after Inigo had punched him following his stunt at the mirror (“H-how dare you try to ‘ _r-ravish my neck_ ’ you - you _leech_! At least take me out for dinner first!”) nodded. “How many times do I have to stay it, Inigo from Upstairs. Only a fool makes Odin Dark repeat himself. You’ll repent, mortal, for making me repea -“

“Oh, my _God!_ Just speak _normally_ you blithering _fool!_ ”

Owain visibly flinched at Inigo’s tone and nodded meekly, shrinking back into his ridiculous cape. Inigo was getting one hell of a headache from the eye strain caused by the artificial light and the riddles his neighbour - his _vampire_ neighbour - spoke in. “So, like, what,” he started, massaging his temples in a vain attempt to clear his foggy head; “you’re immortal and you live off blood and turn into a bat at night and stuff?”

“Pshht, turning into a bat is like, advanced vampistry and it’s a skill specific to different sub-section of vampire, so,” Owain mumbled into his hand, avoiding Inigo’s glaring eye contact at all costs. “Uh, not that I would expect _you_ to know that," he scoffed.

“Oh yeah?” Inigo cooed, leaning forwards, causing Owain to lean backwards wearily to maintain his distance. “And the whole blood and immortality thing?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly _tried_ dying so I’m not 100% on the immortality -“ Inigo shot him the dirtiest look he could muster causing Owain to swallow thickly - “but I _do_ need to drink blood to survive. Though I can eat mortal food too, I just can’t take any, uh, _nutrition_ from it.”

Inigo almost found himself laughing again but held it back with a grin. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to warm up to the pathetic young vampire that sat nursing a bruised cheek across from him. “And you’ll burn up into ash in sunlight, right? And you’re weak to garlic?”

Owain was mumbling into his hand embarrassedly at this point. “I just get really bad sun-burn really quickly. It’s painful. And the garlic I’m - I’m allergic actually… I’ll go into anaphylactic shock and, y’know, swell up.”

Inigo couldn’t hold it back any longer. A giggle slipped through his full lips which he attempted to hide with his hand to save the poor man any more embarrassment than necessary. “Hey! It’s not funny!” Owain cried in protest, even though at this point he was smiling himself at the ridiculousness of it all.

“So what are you doing all the way in the city like this? You clearly can’t fend for yourself,” Inigo chuckled. “Not got your super strength yet, Edward?”

“ _Gods_ \- the _Twilight Saga_ completely ruined everyones expectations of vampires. We’ve never had innate super strength! That’s so _O.P._!”

Inigo smirked and ran a hand through his grey hair, feeling the tense muscles in his back relaxing finally. He’d been wrong about adult life being boring. This was _great,_ regardless of how much he hadn’t expected to spend his afternoon getting to know his cute, albeit pathetic new vampire neighbour. “So you’re a regular guy who just drinks blood, basically? Do you even sleep in a coffin or anything?”

“No way dude, I care about my spinal health. I have a memory foam mattress.”

Inigo burst into uncontrollable laughter again, droplets of saliva being shot from his mouth across the pleather sofa only to land on Owain’s face which excited a needlessly over-dramatic screech of “gross!”. It must have been something about the infectious nature of Inigo’s laugh that started Owain off too - a haughty snicker evolved into a full-belly laugh, rich and warm and the exact opposite of what one would expect of a vampire’s laugh. It was nothing like the ‘mwuah ha ha’ Inigo has expected. The pair laughed for a good two minutes before finally catching their breaths, wiping their tears from their eyes.

“So, uh, about your blood -“

“Nuh-uh. No way. You are _not_ sucking my blood. I’m squeamish about it and I’ll probably pass out and it’ll be weird for the both of us.”

Owain sighed in defeat and nodded. “Alright, alright, a no is a no. I won’t ask any more. I will sustain myself on your Man Chut and the witches Jam for now.”

Inigo grinned and stood up, his legs stiff from sitting for too long. “I really should get going back upstairs - stuff to do and all. Though if theres anything you need -“ Owain gave him a hopeful, glassy eyed look - “that _isn’t_ my blood… Well, you know where to find me.” Owain stood to see him out, walking over to the front door, removing the catch and unlocking it swiftly. “So, um, are we like, friends now or something?” He said shyly, opening the door a little and shrinking back away from the sunlight in the hallway. Inigo stepped out, forming a small shield against the light for Owain to stand behind. Once again, Inigo could see the others pretty green eyes, fair eyelashes and unmarked ivory skin. His now significantly more bearable personality and demeanour made him much more likeable, much to Inigo’s chagrin. Maybe he really would end up falling in love with his cute neighbour. His cute _vampire_ neighbour. His cute vampire neighbour who would’ve undoubtedly sucked his blood had he not eaten garlic bread earlier. 

“Well, considering the fact that you’ve already straddled me and k-kissed my neck I would say, yes, we probably are friends at this point, chap.” He felt a blush bloom on his cheeks once more. Ah, this was so embarrassing.

Owain’s face lit up immediately only for it to darken again a moment later. “Listen, my mortal _friend._ You mustn’t tell anyone about the horrors you’ve learnt this afternoon or thou shall be at the mercy of Odin Dark and thine life shall become a living nightmare.” He took a step forward so that his face was close to Inigo’s (far _too_ close, Inigo thought. He could easily kiss his cheeks at this distance). “Mark my words, Inigo from Upstairs, your life will be snuffed out in mere seconds like a candle in the wind from my limitless might if you breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“Ha ha,” Inigo chuckled, not feeling threatened in the slightest with his newfound knowledge that he could indeed take Owain in a fist fight. “Sure thing, Mr. Dark.”

Owain smirked with his small victory, nodded and covered part of his face in a strange pose that Inigo decided would be better left un-asked about. “Good evening,” he said and he nodded a farewell which Owain returned from his position now safely behind the door of apartment two. “So long, Inigo from Upstairs. You were a formidable opponent! Until we meet again!”

 

On the stairs up to floor three, Inigo pinched himself hard on the forearm which caused him to wince, but didn’t wake him up from the half-dream, half-nightmare he was obviously having. He hoped that after sleeping he would wake up tomorrow to find that apartment two was still unoccupied and filled to the brim with natural sunlight and humanly warmth.

He spent the rest of his evening trying to calm his rattled nerves by making a fresh batch of his mother’s mango chutney and watching cop shows with terrible post-production effects on television until late, not in the least bit soothed by the sound of video games being played loudly coming from the apartment below him, now occupied by the annoyingly cute and other worldly neighbour who would without a doubt unknowingly do his best to turn Inigo’s life upside down and inside out.

 


	3. Nothing if Not a Sense of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin Dark - 1, Inigo from Upstairs - Nil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this so soon, but it's Owain's birthday today (July 15th) so here's an update! Gets kind of mushy, but I have to sow the seeds of love at some point, right?

Inigo worked as a receptionist at a small gym on the outskirts of the town. It was a simple, largely unrewarding and boring job which required him mostly just to take phone calls and greet members, but it paid the rent and put food on his table and it wasn’t as if it didn’t come with perks. The half price gym membership was the main fringe benefit, and was something that Inigo abused more than he should’ve. But after a few sessions of sweet talk and eyelash battering with his boss, he’d managed to procure the entire dance hall - a room with mirrors on all of the walls and sprung hardwood floor with a magnificently clear sounding surround sound system - all to himself for one hour every day after closing. Trusted with the keys, he could dance to his hearts content for an hour as long as he would lock everything up behind him. He never abused this power that’d been given to him. All in all, his working life was quietly enjoyable.

Even his commute was something that he enjoyed. Having never learnt to drive (and never planning to, his anxiety was awful enough outside of a car as it was. His instructor had told him during the singular driving lesson he’d taken that ‘maybe driving wasn’t for him’. ‘No shit,’ he’d thought as he had gripped the steering wheel and tried to bring himself out of his panic attack) he relied on public transport (unreliable) and his own two feet (reliable) to get him to where he needed to be. Another pro of his boring but perfect job - it wasn’t too far away for the journey there to become arduous.

His beloved commute to work this morning was the same as always, though walking past the door to apartment two on his way out stirred the ugly melting pot of emotions he’d brewed yesterday. He pushed it to the back of his mind and got on with his morning the best he could.

So when his day passed by uneventfully, Inigo found himself grateful. He’d procured the number of a cute girl booking in for her afternoon spin class (“I’ll drop you a text, darling,” and he would - though he’d never get a reply from her) and that had put him in an especially good mood. So as the rest of the staff left for the evening, he slinked to the dance studio where he quickly changed, slipping into a loose white cotton t-shirt and loose pink dance trousers, plugged in his iPod and got to work cutting shapes. His mind always wondered to his mother when he danced and for a while as he rolled his muscles languidly in front of his audience of mirrors he thought of her out in the countryside with her small dance school of village kids. The city was no good for her health - not that it was particularly good for his either - but the distance between them made him melancholy as he moved through an old routine they’d choreographed when he was younger and still living with her. ‘Ah, adulthood,’ he thought.

His good-day-luck started to run out as soon as he entered the apartment building. As if by magic, the newly christened Witch of the Ground Floor opened her front door with watering can in hand just as Inigo closed the door behind him. “Oh! Inigo!” She exclaimed suddenly; “did you take the jam to our new neighbour yesterday?” She was obviously prying for information as if she were a terrible enemy spy. Shuffling nervously on his feet, Inigo adjusted his gym bag on his shoulder and put on his bravest face. “I did! He’s a nice young man, around my age.”

“Oh… I do hope that he doesn’t make too much noise. Young people are so loud,” she sighed, looking very disappointed at this news. Inigo wondered if she’d heard the same loud video game music he had last night. Maybe she was going deaf. Or did sound travel upwards? “If you see him, do tell him to come down to me and introduce himself.”

Inigo realised very quickly that that could pose a very messy situation indeed. “Uh,” he stuttered, gripping the strap of his gym bag and taking a staggered step forward so that he could whisper closer to the woman’s ear, “that’s not such a good idea.”

Her eyes narrowed to cat-like curious slits as she listened to Inigo who was currently straining himself to think as quickly as possible of a viable excuse. It wasn’t as if he could explain that their neighbour was a vampire and a very hungry one at that - he'd been asked not to tell anyone and this old lady was possibly the _worst_  possible person he could tell. But while he himself had the physical strength to fight Owain off, this frail, albeit mean old woman did not. On one hand Inigo found himself wanting to dismiss the discussion they were having. Let Owain come and bleed her dry. That’d be one annoyance out of his life. On the other hand, Inigo wondered if he could live with the guilt of knowing that he’d indirectly lead to the demise of his neighbour. Oh, the joys of being a morally responsible adult.

“He’s very sickly, you see,” Inigo lied; “when I visited yesterday he was coughing and spluttering all over the place. The sunlight gives him terrible headaches too apparently so he likes to stay where it’s dark.”

The old woman visibly recoiled. “I hope he’s not contagious.”

Inigo gave his best fake smile to date; “I’m sure he’s not. Don’t panic. Anyway, I must be off! Things to do and all that. See you soon.”

With that minor inconvenience out of the way, Inigo hoped that his day would return to blissful normality. He would later hate himself for being so naive following yesterdays bizarre events. 

*

The black blanket covered mound that blocked the door to his apartment groaned when Inigo tried to move it out of the way. It was without a question Owain and Inigo was far too tired to deal with him tonight. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable from his workout and genuinely wanted nothing more than an ice cold shower but alas, here it was. A literal road block. Except this one breathed.

“Owain? Is that you? What on earth are you doing?”

A groan of pain. “I had no where else to go. The mighty Odin Dark is on the cusp of death, and while I am not afraid of entering the eternal void it would be a great inconvenience for me to die and leave _Naruto: Ultimate Ninja Storm_ uncompleted.”

Inigo put two and two together quickly and sighed, his hand moving to his hip. “I told you yesterday didn’t I? You are not going to drink my blood - cusp of death or not.”

A weak, skinny white hand lifted the edge of the blanket up and Inigo squatted down to look at the man underneath. His eyes looked red and bloodshot, his cheeks sunken and his skin had an uncomfortable translucent glow to it, making the bruise he'd procured yesterday look like a blooming purple flower. He looked more like a skeleton than a flesh and (possibly?) blood animal and Inigo recoiled in horror - Owain really hadn’t been kidding about that whole edge of life and death spiel. “You look bloody awful,” he stated bluntly.

“I wouldn’t know,” Owain grumbled, letting the thick blanket fall back over him and whining, feeling very sorry for himself indeed. “I can’t exactly see myself in the mirror, dumbass.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass when you’re the one who let himself get in this state.”

Another sad whine from the pile. “I didn’t - ah, pathetic mortal, you don’t understand.”

Inigo resisted the urge to scream into his hands and test if Owain really was immortal or not by choking him violently. He had to admit defeat. It was against his rule of not doing something unless it was compulsory or enjoyable, but there would always be exceptions, anyway, right? It would be unfair to potentially save the life of the Ground Floor Witch but to let Owain die, right? “How much longer do you have left before you kick the proverbial bucket?”

“I don’t know,” the pile groaned, “anything from mere seconds to a few hours.”

Inigo snorted. “I’ll take my chances then, chap,” he announced as he leant over Owain’s hunched figure, unlocked his apartment door and stepped carefully over him. “You can’t come in unless I invite you, right?” Owain only groaned in protest. “Well then, get comfortable outside here for a bit longer. I am going to shower.”

*

When Inigo emerged showered, sweatless and smelling fresh Owain was still on the floor outside his door having moved barely an inch. With a mug of green tea in hand, Inigo gently kicked the black mound looking for any sign of life - or death, whichever Owain’s normal state was. “Still with us, oh mighty Mr. Dark?” A groan confirmed that Owain was indeed still in the same realm as he. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Inigo hadn’t yet decided.

“Right then,” Inigo sighed as he downed the remainder of his tea and stepped back into his apartment to place the mug in the sink to be washed later. “Let’s get you back to your apartment.” Another heavy groan of painful protest. “Ha, if you thought I was stupid enough to invite you in and give you an all inclusive pass to my home you’ve got another thing coming.” Inigo scooped up the man into his arms, marvelled for a moment about how light he felt and readjusted the blanket the best he could to keep the sunlight off of him as he carried him back downstairs. “Inigo from Upstairs… You really are a formidable opponent… Perhaps… My greatest challenge yet will be defeating you.”

Inigo rolled his honey brown eyes and set Owain, still shrouded in the blanket and protected from the dimming sunlight, down onto his feet in front of apartment two. “Open the door.”

 

The apartment had barely changed since he left yesterday afternoon save for the addition of more items and the acclamation of a mess unique to young men who live alone. Inigo immediately noted the tub of Man Chut on the floor with a spoon sticking in it and realised that the vampire he was currently helping to keep upright as they walked into the living room had been eating it on it’s own straight from the tub, which probably had contributed to his sudden extreme sickness. Once the door was closed, Inigo pulled off the ridiculous blanket and sighed, making sure to let Owain know that he was being hard done by as he proceeded to usher him over to his sofa with the patience of a saint dealing with a drunken friend. They’d known each other a little over twenty-four hours and yet Inigo was already taking care of this imbecile like he was his mother. He briefly considered what his own mother would say about all of this when he inevitably told her and smiled involuntarily.

“Thank you,” whispered Owain who really did look worse for wear. No wonder he jumped Inigo yesterday, the poor guy looked as if he was literally wasting away. “Can’t you just go to a blood bank or something?” Inigo asked nervously. Something about the impenetrable darkness of apartment two made him feel perpetually on edge and he could think of a million things he’d rather be doing right now. Donating his blood to a dying vampire was not at the top of his list.

“Odin Dark… Is a fearsome hunter. He will never… Take out a loan for blood… What kind of capitalist society is this, anyway…? A bank for blood…”

It was Inigo’s turn to groan. The guy was impossible to understand when he wasn’t delirious but now it was even worse and at one point he’d actually been stupid enough to think that it _couldn’t_ be any worse than it was. He cursed under his breath and tried to steady himself. He really had no choice about the whole matter, did he? He couldn't let the poor bugger die. “Let’s get this over with,” he said with less convicition than he tried to convince himself he had, taking a seat next to Owain and baring his neck for him like a criminal at the gallows. “B-but be gentle, alright? I’m sensitive.”

Owain frowned and held Inigo’s forearm instead, pushing the caps of the soft t-shirt fabric up over Inigo’s broad, rounded shoulders. “You’re cute… I don’t wanna scar your neck… Where people will see...”

Inigo flushed immediately, going red in the face and sweating a little, adjusting himself on the sofa like a nervous schoolgirl in front of her crush. “Ha, you think I’m cu - _AHHH!_ Oh my _God_! Give a man some warning why don’t you?!”

Owain looked up from Inigo’s bloody elbow with blood on his lips at the sound of pained cries. While Inigo could see that the man looked healthier already having had just a quick taste he did seem to be a little green around the edges with queasiness. “Ugh,” Owain grumbled; “so gross…”

The sensation was a mixture between being kissed on the elbow and having a blood test and while in theory in Inigo’s mind the combination of the two should’ve been oddly pleasurable, it turned out to be a very strange, alien feeling. It felt invasive and intimate - perhaps more intimate than it should’ve felt regarding the fact that the pair of them had known each other for just over twenty-four hours. Inigo shuddered uncomfortably, feeling Owain’s tongue lick softly across the fresh wound as he sucked gently, his fingers rubbing firm but supportive circles on his bicep as if he was quietly encouraging him (though in reality, Inigo guessed he was only stimulating blood flow to the elbow) like Inigo had conscious control over how much blood he allowed to flow through his arm. And then it happened. The sight of his own blood on Owain’s lips had made him uncomfortable enough, but when he noticed the two small puncture wounds on the soft, sensitive inside of his elbow Inigo paled. All of the blood that was in his head made a mad dash to exit said head, and before he knew what was happening he had keeled over backwards on the sofa and passed out with all the grace of a ballet dancer. The last thing he could remember was Owain’s grating voice screeching “ho-lee _shit_!”

*

Waking up in a clammy, dimly lit room made Inigo more immediately anxious than he'd ever been in his life. There was a fuzzy haze of white light coming from something on his right, but his head pounded so angrily and his eyes were blurred so badly that he could not quite make out what it was. As his sight gradually returned, he saw that he was covered by a thick, dark blanket and realised alarmingly slowly that he was lain on the pleather sofa that for some irritating reason he hadn't been able to escape from in the last twenty four hours. 'Oh, right,' he thought, returning from the land of the unconscious to the land of the living; 'Owain's apartment.'

Feeling gradually began to return and with it came pain. Inigo glanced at the source - the inside of his elbow - and remembered everything that'd happened. He cringed inwardly at the fact that he had actually passed out. In front of his cute neighbour. Cute vampire neighbour. Vampire. Oh, God, that was right, he had become a human sized juice box. Doing a double take of his wounds, Inigo saw that there was now a piece of gauze attached carefully to his elbow that'd been secured in place by two pink _Hello Kitty_ bandaids. Inigo smiled involuntary. ‘Cute neighbour’ was an understatement it seemed. He really should hit him with one of his killer one-liners some time.

Twisting his head towards the source of the hazy light like some kind of oversized, groggy moth was no mean feat with how shitty he felt at the moment. Opening his mouth and expecting words to come out like they normally did, Inigo was surprised when all he could manage was a guttural grunt of extreme displeasure. A figure who was merely a silhouette to Inigo against the light turned and then scrambled towards him on all fours with alarming speed.

"Fuck, dude, are you alright? You actually passed out, you know," it was Owain speaking to him, Inigo registered, not that obnoxious asshole persona Odin Dark. Strewn across his pale face was real, genuine concern.

"Do I... Do I look as shitty as I feel?"

Owain chuckled and brushed a stray grey hair away from Inigo's eyes. "Nah, you still look pretty. Uh - for a mortal, that is.” Inigo was thankful that Owain moved his hand away quickly after fixing his hair, with those cold hands of his he would have felt his sudden spike in temperature with no problem at all. Though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was meant as a compliment or not, he still accepted it graciously and put it in his pocket to think about later. "I did think you were gonna die though at one point. You literally, like, went _white_. I'm talking octothorp _-FFFFFF_ white."

Inigo did not know what that meant and did not care to know either. All he wanted was sleep to come and quickly. Preferably not here in a dismally dark room with a vampire - albeit one who cared enough to keep a first aid kit around his apartment somewhere, one complete with very cute bandaids. His own warm bed sounded like heaven right now.

"I _told_ you I'm not good with blood." Inigo moved his forearm to cover his eyes from the glare of the TV screen which was currently paused on a _Naruto: Ultimate Ninja Storm_ fight, he presumed.

“Hey, me neither buddy! But at least I didn't fucking faint on you!" Inigo immediately raised his forearm from his eyes with the sole intention of glaring intensely at Owain with the anger of, in the words of Odin Dark, a thousand whipped and branded dark steeds. Nothing would’ve pleased him more than his firmly glare actually setting him alight.

"Yeah, uh," Owain looked away sheepishly. "It's kind of gross. It grosses me out. It's a weird temperature. Like really thick just-about room temperate coffee with a hint of what the bars of playground swings would taste like if you licked them."

Inigo replaced his forearm over his eyes before they caught fire themselves. "You are the single most pathetic vampire ever to exist. Even _I_ would make a better vampire than you."

“Ha! I wouldn’t expect a mortal to understand just how hard it is being a creature of the night. Anyway, you need to keep your blood sugar up. It's kind of low, are you eating right?"

Inigo did not want to justify himself to the lech who'd gotten him into this miserable situation. After a second thought, he realised that the lech who'd gotten him into this situation was none other than himself - who, he emphasised to himself inside his own mind, had gone against his first rule and gotten himself in this mess - so the train of thought was immediately terminated.

"No, ah, well,” Inigo stuttered as the light stinging his eyes through the gaps that his arm did not cover increased in intensity as Owain moved from sitting on the floor near him and padded quietly over to where he presumed the kitchen was going off of his own apartment floor plan. He heard cupboards opening and closing and drawers being rummaged through and dreaded whatever horror was coming for him next. "I haven't eaten since maybe 2PM, because, you know, there was a body outside my apartment.”

"That's no good, Inigo from Upstairs."

"And I'm finding it kind of hard to stomach food at the minute," he admitted quietly, wondering if it was really alright for him to spill this to a man he'd known for just over a day. 

"Why's that?"

Inigo took a deep breath in through his mouth and let the air escape out through his nose. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Yeah, scouts honour," Owain said, his voice closer again now. The light intensity changed again as he sat back on the floor near where Inigo's head rested on the sofa. Inigo felt something get placed on his belly and shifted his arm from across his eyes to look at it. A bar of dark chocolate and a lollipop. He smiled at the gesture but felt queasy at the thought of eating right now.

"If you admit something, I'll admit something too," Owain offered as if to coax him out of his shell.

'I'll be damned if you have another embarrassing vampire failure to admit,' Inigo thought. But it was no good. The feeling was in his throat now and he could either swallow it again and let it fester inside him or throw it up and get it over and done with, regardless of how messy it'd be. "I miss my mom," he said quietly. Pathetically. How the hell had he ended up in this situation? He wanted to sleep. ”I moved here not long ago. I used to live out in the country with my mom and I… _Really_ miss her. We're very close. She's my world." Inigo sighed and Owain's head tipped back to rest on the sofa, his soft blond hair lightly touching Inigo's cheek comfortingly. "Wow, I'm such a loser, first I pass out and then I reveal how much of a mama's boy I am. So much for my cool façade."

"Nah," Owain sighed, "it's cute. And you _are_ cool, you know?" There it was again - _cute_ , _cool_. Inigo's heart thumped. "I love my mom too. I've been here on my own for a day and I've already almost died without her looking out for me. But I don't think many people would offer themselves up for me like that when I was in a pinch either. So you're a cool guy, Inigo from Upstairs. In my books you’re even cooler for loving your mom." Owain sighed again. Inigo noted how much more alive he looked now, even more alive than he had looked yesterday. He wasn’t so sure if he could take him in a fist fight any more. "But you gotta eat right, you hear? Your physical and mental power is getting sapped by your disregard of complicated mortal health. I won’t accept defeating you when you’re at anything other than 100%, as Odin Dark is nothing if not proud. And infinitely powerful. And feared by all - mortals and immortals alike.” Inigo hummed with feigned interest to let Owain know that he hadn’t been listening. “What I’m saying is that your blood sugar is pretty low.”

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to see your medical certificate before I start taking health advice from a guy who eats mango chutney on its own right out of the tub _for fun_."

Owain laughed. “Well, it’s my turn to admit something now, right? Well, I lied when I said 'scouts honour'. I was never a scout." It was Inigo's turn to laugh, and laugh he did even though it hurt his aching head. He felt lighter already.

“You wanna play _Naruto: Ultimate Ninja Storm_?”

“Yeah. Prepare to feel the wrath of Inigo from Upstairs!”


	4. Mother FUCKER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin Dark - 2, Inigo from Upstairs - Nil

"Inigo, I have some great news!" The Inigo in question reclined back on his sofa and smiled, feeling his worries melt away at the sound of his mothers cute, excited voice. She had called out of the blue and at first it had panicked him to no end. Had something happened? Was she alright? He couldn't drive so it would take a while for him to get to her if needs be. But it seemed that all his worrying had been for naught, everything was fine. By the sounds of it - everything was better than fine. "I'm coming to visit you this weekend!"

Everything was not fine.

"Wh-what?!" He choked out, now sitting bolt upright and sweating like a whore in church.  
"Well, your father and I were talking and he suggested I come visit you. We've been lonely without you and I miss you very much, son."  
"How are you going to... What about the school, I mean, you can't just close it over the weekend, right?"

Her shy, girlish giggle conjured a perfect vision in his head of his beautiful mother holding the phone and smiling, wrapping her pale, slender fingers around the phone cord as she spoke gently. "Y-you know your father isn't much of a dancer but he agreed to run the weekend classes for me in my place."

Inigo was drenched with sweat and finding it hard to breathe suddenly. There were only two things flashing through his mind: the first being how on Earth he could make it appear to his doting mother that he was coping well living on his own, and the second being how the Hell would he keep Owain away from her for an entire weekend? Both were impossible, he realised, his breathing becoming laboured and his eyes stinging. His stomach churned uncomfortably as anxiety swiped at his guts, shredding them to fiery pieces inside him. The lack of oxygen was making him lightheaded and his vision blurry. His hand started to become unable to properly grip his phone. Oh no. Not now, any time but now.

“Inigo, dear, is something wrong? Are you alright?" When he found himself unable to answer, his mothers little concerned 'um's and 'ah's made him feel worse. He was going to throw up, his throat was burning. "Baby, you have to concentrate on your b-breathing, alright? In through your mouth, that's it, that's it now hold that for one, two, three and then slowly out through your nose. Have you got it? Ah, um, and make sure you're sitting down, honey. I'll do it with you, Inigo. Just breathe - mama's here."

'That's the problem,' Inigo thought as he followed his mothers advice, thin tears being squeezed out of his eyes, 'mama _will_ be here.' "Just a bad day at work," he wheezed, "feeling a little stressed. I'll be f-fine soon."

"Take as much time as you need, Ini-bear, I'm here for you."

 *

Olivia had arrived at the train station in one piece if not a little late and embarrassed and when she stepped out of the carriage amidst a steady flow of people with things to do and places to be. Inigo was incredibly thankful for her striking features which meant that he could pick her out with ease. He ran to her like a lost child and she in turn embraced him with warm, open arms, rubbing his back like she used to do and complaining again about how tall he'd gotten. Inigo let himself take in and enjoy the smell that clung to her clothes and skin - grass, wood and traces of the perfume he'd bought her for her birthday last year.

"I don't live _too_ far from here," he said, picking up her small suitcase and offering her his arm for her to hold onto as they weaved between an ocean of people. "About a fifteen minute bus drive then a five minute walk." Olivia nodded and smiled shyly.  
'She really does look good for her age,' Inigo thought. Although she was almost fifty now she had the skin of a woman twenty years younger and a body fitter than those of some of the instructors at Inigo's work. If that was what dancing did for you later in life, Inigo would be sure to practice every day until he dropped dead.  
  
"That's fine," she said softly, squeezing his arm affectionately. "Oh, I'm so excited to be staying with you!" Her cheeks were apple red. Inigo wondered if they looked more like they were dating than being mother and son and started to feel weird. "Me too! But is, uh, is father alright with all of this?"  
"Oh, yes," she said quietly with her trademark shy smile, her pretty eyes glistening up at him from through her eyelashes. "You know how he is. He cares about you and loves you just as much as I do, but he has his own way of showing it. My only regret is not seeing him teach the kids this weekend!" They both laughed. The thought of Inigo's father, a strong albeit awkward man of sturdy build and serious nature teaching a group of young children how to dance was hilarious. "You should've set up a hidden camera in the studio," he offered, making Olivia laugh her delicate, tinkly giggle.

The bus ride was as pleasant as always. The pair sat side by side excitedly filling each other in on everything they’d missed since Inigo had moved away. Life in the country was progressing as normal at a snails pace while life in the city was everything _but,_ and while Inigo did want to tell his mother about the new-found fact that his new downstairs neighbour was a vampire, he found himself skipping over that detail the best he could so that Olivia wouldn’t worry about him more than she already did. He’d just have to avoid him like the plague for the next two days. Owain was still an enigma and while Inigo assumed that he posed no harm, when it came to his mother he was not about to take that risk. And really - who knew what Owain would do? He could do anything from bite his mother to blow his façade of having a successful adult life, and while it was no longer a question of whether Inigo trusted the man as he now _did_ trust him, he was at his core - an unpredictable wildcard. There was no telling what would spill out of his mouth next and with his mothers delicate constitution Inigo was not about to take even the slightest of risks.

But deep down, bubbling silently somewhere in the throes of his gut, Inigo was aware that avoiding Owain for a couple of days was an impossible task. He knew already that he was doomed from the start but clinged desperately to ignorance.

*

The mail boxes were found on the first floor close to the entrance and outside the door to the Ground Floor Witch's apartment. They were small, red metal lockable boxes lined up in a row like soldiers outside Buckingham Palace, distinguishable only by the numbers and nameplates they wore. As the mother and son combo approached the building, Inigo noticed through the window that Owain was right there in the small lobby at his mailbox. He'd realised recently that on cloudy days where there wasn't much direct sunlight, Owain would venture outside of his apartment like a nervous kitten trying its paws out for the first time. He never seemed to leave the building - or at least if he had he did it while Inigo was at work - but would take a trip down to the first floor to check his mail. It was a wonder how he hadn't ran into the Ground Floor Witch yet, but it wouldn't surprise Inigo if Owain had become far too nervous to see her since he seemingly believed that she was an actual witch. It seemed that Inigo's luck had ran out before his mission had even started and he saw no way in which he could avoid the car crash about to happen before his eyes. He began to sweat profusely, trying to think of anything to stall time so that Olivia wouldn't come into contact with the sorry excuse for a vampire he called his neighbour. With every step his pulse quickened and his breaths became shallower. He felt as if he would pass out right there on the short path to the building door and for a brief moment, he welcomed that as at least it'd make a convincing distraction.  
  
"Inigo, dear, are you alright?" Olivia said softly, taking hold of Inigo's warm, clammy hand and squeezing it gently. "You look pale."  
  
An opportunity. Inigo grabbed it gratefully with two hands. "I'm sorry, it's just the heat. I feel a little lightheaded." Olivia nodded and started to draw small circles on the back of Inigo's hand with her soft thumb. "It _is_ warm today. Just take your time and some big breaths." Inigo lingered on the thought of his mother being the most supportive and accepting mother in the world. Even though he was technically lying - only a white lie though, and even then it was only a half white lie as he really _did_ feel light headed - she still offered support and comfort regardless of how trivial the issue was. 'Ah,' he thought, 'I really love her.'

It was then that Inigo caught movement in his peripheral vision. A swish of a black cape and then a new face at the window. The Ground Floor Witch. Though he never thought he'd think it ever in his life, he'd just been saved by that horrid old woman. Owain had made a run for it, terrified of being cursed most likely, back upstairs to floor two. Now was the time to act. He had to take advantage of this situation. "Phew, alright," he said, grinning, "I'm sure I'll feel much better after a glass of water and a lie down! Let's hurry on up home."

It would mean engaging in conversation with the Witch, but surely it was a small price to pay to avoid a potential vampire-sized disaster?

"Good afternoon, Inigo and, ah, um, I don't believe we've met," the Witch said, looking Olivia up and down and making her squeak and blush terribly. "Are you Inigo's sister?"  
  
Inigo watched his mother turn scarlet and felt his own cheeks burning. "Actually, I'm - I'm Ini's _mother_ ," she said meekly, offering her hand for a handshake. "I-it's nice to meet you... I'm Olivia."  
  
"Charmed, I'm sure," the old woman said, her eyes widening in surprise at this new information. Inigo wondered how boring her own life had to be to be so invested in others. "Oh dear, you must have had him very young," she continued, looking pitiful. "Were you... were you _with_ his father, or..?"  
Inigo cleared his throat firmly. "I'm sorry," he said sternly, "I don't think that's appropriate." The Witch have him a piercing glare and if looks could kill he was sure that his mortal body and subsequent ghost would both have been vaporised. He flinched.  
  
"It's alright, Inigo," Olivia said softly before turning to face his neighbour. "I was 26 and married to his father when I had Inigo, actually. I'm 49 now and still very happily married." She was still smiling and gentle with her words. Inigo thought again about how much he loved and respected his mother. He figured that not many people could've held their tongue and still be so forgiving and kind in the way she just had. He just hoped that if she could deal with that, she could deal with Owain if they - God forbid - encountered _him_.

The journey up the two small flights of stairs to the third floor were tense. Inigo did not do much as dare to breathe as he guided his mother past the door to apartment two and up the next staircase. When they finally reached his front door, which thankfully was not blocked by a mound of vampire, Inigo breathed a huge sigh of relief. They'd both made it home in one piece. Maybe he could do this. The impossible was slowly becoming more possible right in front of his eyes.  
  
And so, the dynamic duo settled very quickly with Olivia adapting to Inigo's small home with ease. Thankfully he'd cleared up most of the mess that plagued the floor and had changed his bedsheets and hidden away his undesirables. He insisted that his mother should sleep in his bed while he would make up the sofa bed and sleep there for a couple of nights, and while Olivia had looked as if she was about to complain, she left her grievances unvoiced.  
In fact, it started to seem as if there had been no reason for him to ever worry about this whole arrangement in the first place. His beloved mother whom he had missed very much was here with him. There was no need to fret and never had been. 'My problems are melting away,' he thought as he sunk further into the bath ("Hot baths are good for your skin, and if you're still feeling stressed it'll help you relax. I'll run one for you, dear.") and stretched his back out, his bones voicing several loud cracks cutting through the sound of water moving languidly and the tap running still.  
Maybe he really had been worried about nothing. Worrying about nothing was the foundation of adult life anyway, was it not? Owain was aware that he loved his mother and while they weren’t what Inigo would call ‘friends’, he thought at least that Owain had the decency and respect to not attack the mother he’d been told about. He had forgotten in his swirling anxiety that Owain was in the same boat as he - perhaps his boat had been in an even worse position since he _had_ almost _died_ without his mothers aid (whatever that meant - Inigo did not want to know the details). Finally he could chill out. His anxiety seemingly flowed down the plughole with the bathwater. Mother was right again.

But when he would look back on that day in hours, days and weeks to come, he realised that should've known that nothing lasts forever. Relaxed and with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, Inigo planned to duck quickly into his bedroom to get dressed. It wasn't that his mother hadn't seen him shirtless before - or even in the full nude since the woman had _birthed_ him, for God’s sake - but it was still embarrassing. For the both of them. But it was an easy, non-essential run of the mill operation. Slip out and slip in. Easy peasy, no obstacles, no road block.

Or so he thought.

Inigo's anxiety went from 0 to 100 in the space of the three seconds it took to open the bathroom door and look across the living room area. Olivia was sat on the sofa, smiling pleasantly at none other than Owain himself, chatting as if she had not a problem in the world. Inigo, on the other hand, almost had a heart attack.  
  
"You!" He cried, holding his towel up with one hand and pointing right at Owain with his other. Both heads turned to look at him, Olivia wearing a look of surprise whereas Owain immediately looked frightened. Inigo did not miss the way in which his eyes flickered up and down his torso and felt his cheeks growing hot. "D-Don't stare!" Owain quickly snapped his head to the side and looked away, his eyes wide with fear. "What are you doing in here?! How - _how_ are you in here?!"  
Olivia looked at Owain and back to Inigo again. "I invited him in," she said innocently. "He's your downstairs neighbour, right, dear?"

Inigo's world shattered right in front of his eyes. His mother had invited him in and given him an all-access pass to his apartment and now Owain could come to terrorise Inigo whenever he pleased. A new terrible feeling brewed in his stomach, bubbling away like the green sludge in a witches cauldron.  
Owain put his hands up to show his innocence. "I had an almighty craving for your Man Chut and my spoon hand could not be kept docile any longer. Your girlfriend said I could wait here until you had finished your bathroom appointment."  
  
"F-first of all,” Inigo spluttered, “she is _not_ my girlfriend - she is my _mother_ , a-and _second of all_ I am going to put clothes on first so, d-do _not_ move." Inigo was sure he could feel the dampness of his hair being evaporated with his heat that was emanating from his cheeks. He ran into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, quickly covering his face with his hands from ungodly embarrassment. If only the ground would open up and swallow him. The dreadful feeling in his gut told him that it would only get worse from here on out.

With clothes on and sopping wet hair combed and clipped back, Inigo exited to see his mother and supernatural neighbour talking quietly. Owain stood up as soon as he saw Inigo again and quickly blurted a "I'm sorry, I didn't know your mom was over. If I did, I wouldn't have disturbed you."  
Inigo feigned a smile as he made his way to the freezer and extracted a frozen tub of Man Chut, walking over to Owain with it in hand. "Don't worry about it. Could you give me the tub back when you're finished with it?"  
Owain nodded and accepted the tub of chutney with two hungry, gracious hands. "It was great to meet you, Olivia - uh, Mrs. Inigo.” Inigo felt himself spinning at the fact that Owain was already on a first name basis with his mother. "You too, Owain. See you soon," Olivia smiled, as gentle and as beautiful as always.  
Owain scurried out of apartment three like a rat being chased by a broom. Inigo hurriedly locked the door after him and slid the chain across as if that would add extra protection against the vampire that could now enter his home as he pleased. He wondered briefly whether being invited in by a guest also counted if they didn't permanently reside there.

”Honey," Olivia's sweet but concerned voice came, breaking Inigo out of his stupor: "what was that about? He's your neighbour isn't he?"  
Inigo shuffled nervously on his feet before admitting defeat and walking over to the sofa where his mother delicately sat. His head was hung and his heart felt fluttery but heavy. He had to tell her the truth, he couldn’t lie to her, not about this. ”Mom, you see, he's not really," a deep breath; "he's not _human_." Inigo thought of the threat he'd been issued when he'd first met Owain and how he'd been almost begged to not tell anyone about his existence. But surely he couldn't be expected to keep this to himself forever? "He's not human? What do you mean, Ini?" Olivia said, reaching for his hand and holding it. 'Her skin is so soft,' Inigo thought as her thumb rubbed gentle circles on the back of his hand. "Owain is... A vampire, mom," he said quietly, looking into his lap to avoid making eye contact. Did he sound crazy? Was Owain _really_ a vampire or had he dreamed that? What had he done to deserve this nightmarish day? His head was spinning. He'd do anything just to lie down.  
  
”A vampire?” Olivia seemed to miraculously believe him. Her features softening as Inigo shyly glanced up to meet her eyes. “He hasn't hurt you, has he?" Inigo opened his mouth to speak and instead just shook his head, no. Some experiences are better left untold.  
"I was just worried he might, you know, try to hurt _you_ or something…” Inigo looked sheepishly at Olivia's face and was surprised to find her smiling sweetly. "Oh, Ini, thank you for your concern, but I can tell Owain is a gentle boy, vampire or not.”

That hadn’t surprised him in the slightest. His mother had always been a better judge of character than he, and she, once again, wasn’t wrong. Inigo meditated on the image of Owain looking shocked and very sorry for himself when he’d been persecuted this afternoon and had wasted no time in scurrying away ashamedly. Inigo realised quietly as his mother held his hand and listened that Owain was just trying to reach out to him. They were the same, they were both struggling with life away from home. Out here, they had no one but each other. Owain especially being possibly trapped inside this apartment block had no one but the neighbour upstairs who’d spoken to him. Granted their circumstances were different - while one was riddled with anxiety the other was a literal fucking vampire - they could co-exist. ‘Everyone needs someone,’ Inigo thought, ‘even adults and vampires.' 

* 

Owain did not appear for the rest of Olivia’s stay in apartment three. There was not even so much as a squeak from downstairs let alone video game music playing late into the night, and while Inigo had fun (the pair went shopping together, dancing together, cooked together and laughed together, all of which energised Inigo to no end) he found himself lying on the sofa bed at night unable to sleep as his mind dwelled on the way he’d reacted to Owain and had dealt with the situation he’d been presented with. He didn’t know the guy well enough to know whether he’d shrug the whole thing off or whether he’d wallow in embarrassment, loneliness and despair from it. In the dead of night, Inigo wrested with a new enemy that came with adult life - guilt.  
  
It was said guilt that pushed him to visit apartment two the afternoon of Olivia’s departure. It had been a smooth albeit tearful good-bye, see you soon, take care, but it had left Inigo feeling empty. The bus ride back was lonely. The walk to the apartment block was lonely. Even the stairs up to floor two were lonely. So when Owain’s pale face appeared after a sharp rap on the front door, Inigo found himself smiling.

“Hello, chap. I'm terribly sorry about the way I reacted the other day and well... I was wondering if you’d be game for joining me for a cup of tea upstairs?”  
  
Owain’s sudden sunny smile simultaneously vanquished the guilt-monster that'd tortured him for the last tense days and watered the seed of something else entirely.

"I would love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with the end of this chapter all of the set up for Inigo is out of the way and I can finally start to focus on Owain! I have the next couple of chapters planned out in my head but I am so open to any ideas you guys may have? Feel free to leave them in the comments because I am absolutely ready to go wild with this AU now.
> 
> And on the topic of comments - thank you all _so much_ for your comments! They motivate me so much! Thank you for your support guys ♡
> 
> (Also on an unrelated note: I am actually taking writing commissions to try to build up a bit of money before I move to University in September. If you're interested in commissioning me feel free to mention me on my Twitter account, which is [@oofurry](http://twitter.com/oofurry), for more information!)


	5. The Living and The Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain gives Inigo a performance of _Odin Dark: The Origin Story_ and Inigo goes on to become the dashing, mixed-race, male equivalent of Bella Swan.  
>  The score remains at Odin Dark - 2, Inigo from Upstairs - Nil.

The odd neighbours began to hang out ever since Inigo had first invited Owain upstairs for tea - which had been a successful and relaxed affair - and while they never really spoke much other than small talk, Inigo took a lot from their little carefree conversations and hoped dearly that Owain did too. It was comforting having an ear eager to listen and a shoulder available to cry on if either of them needed it (though as of yet, neither of them had made use of that service). But it was fine. It was polite, friendly and fine. Inigo found that he actually quite liked his eccentric neighbour - he was always the epitome of cheerfulness and never failed to brighten his day regardless of how bad it’d been. It was comfortable, and most of all Owain had been fantastic with minding Inigo’s own personal boundaries. While Owain now could technically invade apartment three whenever he liked thanks to his mother’s innocent mistake, he never did. Every time he showed up at the door to apartment three, he always asked if it was alright for him to come in beforehand. As small of a gesture as that was, Inigo found himself being warmed by it. He had, in a nutshell, started to appreciate Owain’s presence and hoped that Owain appreciated his too. That, he figured, was the budding flower of friendship.

Though as much as he would’ve liked to lay in bed all day thinking about this newfound pal, duty called. Lying in bed wouldn’t pay the bills. Another chore of living an adult life.   
It didn’t take long for him to shower, blow-dry his hair and throw on his work uniform. His gym bag was waiting for him near the door and once that was over his shoulder and an Adult Snack was grabbed, Inigo was out of the door as usual for the morning commute. Nothing was amiss. That is, until he reached floor two and lair of Odin Dark.

There was a note taped to the door. The handwriting was messy and there were blotches of ink from where it had appeared the pen had leaked. It read:

“Inigo from Upstairs  
Please knock before going to work. Important news for you  
Will take 2, possibly 3 minutes  
Thanks  
~~Odin Da~~ Owain”

Inigo visibly hesitated but gave a firm knock regardless of whatever he feared he'd learn in the next two, possibly three minutes. The door opened quickly as if the vampire had already sensed his presence and Owain's cute, pale face appeared partially hidden behind the door.

"I saw uh, your note," Inigo said, pointing to the note taped to the door to prove it was there; "what's up?"

"Ho, Inigo from Upstairs, enemy turned accomplice to Odin Dark... I felt the need to let you know that um, well... My family are kind of coming over in a couple of days. I have a milestone coming up and they wanted to celebrate it and I mean - they're a mostly harmless bunch but I'll protect you if things get out of hand or, um," Inigo watched in confusion as the man before him started to squirm behind the door and adopt an uncharacteristically shy expression; "well basically I wanted to know if you'd like to join in with the fell festivities? There'll be a meal and dancing, probably."

Inigo was aware that he couldn't quite mask his fright. One vampire, though he'd now come to really quite like him had been enough of a worry but a hoard of them? A ‘ _mostly_ ’ harmless bunch? He laughed nervously and tightened his grip on his gym bag involuntarily. "You're not inviting me b-because I _am_ the meal, right?"

Owain looked shocked and almost opened the front door all the way which would've exposed him to a fair bit of natural light. Inigo sidestepped quickly to once again put the vampire in his shadow. "No!" He cried, looking genuinely upset at Inigo's enquiry. "I'd never let anyone hurt y - I mean," Owain's expression changed suddenly and he shifted his gaze to his own sock-shrouded feet, avoiding Inigo's eyes; "you're the prey of legendary Odin Dark and his prey alone. Never would I stoop as low as to use the strength of others to overcome thine considerable might instead of using my own formidable brute strength."

Inigo blushed comfortably, his olive cheeks glowing red no doubt. "Can I... Have some time to think about it?" He asked sheepishly, now twirling a strand of his soft grey hair around his index finger.

"Of course! It's in two days time so," Owain grinned widely up at him, "take all the time you need."

"I will do, my friend," Inigo chuckled, turning to be on his way, painfully aware of the time he'd spent conversing and the bus that wouldn’t wait for him.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," he added, just as Owain had closed the door to leave only a crack.

"Yes, Inigo from Upstairs?"

"What milestone are you reaching?"

"It's the anniversary of my fated Awakening. I'm turning two-hundred years a vampire."

"T-two..."

"Aren't you going to miss your bus?"

At that, Inigo yelped and ran for the bus stop like his life depended on it.

*

He didn't really know why he hadn't asked before about how old Owain was. He looked about the same age as himself so he'd just assumed that he was. But of course he wasn't. The guy was technically dead after all - he breathed only out of habit and had no pulse to speak of - so it made sense for him to be old. Wasn't Edward Cullen like, a hundred years old too? How had Bella reacted to that news? - he couldn't quite remember but he sure as Hell found himself wanting her guidance and advice right now. And what was an 'Awakening' anyway? Knowing Owain - or rather, knowing _Odin Dark -_ that could mean anything. Great. Fantastic. He thought about Googling it quickly on his work computer but figured it’d be meaningless. 

But there had been something Owain said that had stuck in his mind. There would be _dancing_ and maybe, just maybe if he danced at this party come disaster-waiting-to-happen Owain would be impressed. He'd become terribly flushed when he thought that, but it was just friends wanting to deepen the friendship, right? 'And plus,' Inigo thought as he typed away on his computer behind the desk, filling in new gym members details, 'according to the first Rule of Adulthood, this could offer me great enjoyment and if I take a snack, well, what could go wrong?’

So with that in mind, he decided to drop in after work just to let Owain know that he’d be happy to attend if he’d still have him. Still a little moist from his dancing and the August heat outside, he wondered more about what Owain had said earlier as he was ushered inside.

“Welcome to my fell apartment,” Owain said, shifting quickly into one of his trademark stances that Inigo had still not bothered to ask about. “Pray tell, what brings you to my lair for the second time today?”

“I just wanted to let you know that if you’ll have me I’d be very happy to attend your bash.”

Owain’s features jumped up his head, his expression suddenly sunny and excited. Never before had Inigo seen such pure happiness on anyones face - let alone Owain’s. He felt a sludge of emotions swirl inside him and began to feel giddy himself.

“Really?” Owain cried, grinning ear to ear, Inigo noticing his sharp fangs seemingly for the first time. They suited him. Owain looked like he wanted to hug him, but respectfully kept his distance. “You’ll really come?”

“Yes, yes!” Inigo laughed, his thoughts wandering back to what Owain had told him this morning. “But before I… _confirm_ my attendance… I feel like I probably need to get clued up on some, uh, vampire terminology?”

Owain's stance flowed immediately into another one of his weird poses, his face partially covered by his hand. “I understand… Well then, my dark apprentice (“ _Apprentice?!_ ”)… It is time for -“ a quick change of pose, this one more elaborate than the last - “Vampire 101!”

Inigo was ordered to sit on the pleather sofa and found himself reclining back to relax and watch the inevitable show that would happen before him. Owain was gearing himself up, sitting on the small coffee table, murmuring to himself - warming up his vocal chords.

“So,” he said darkly, “what is it that you wish to know, mortal?”  
“Ah, well, what is the milestone you’re celebrating? And how old are you, really?”

Owain chuckled and smirked, hiding the lower half of his face with his hand and closing his eyes to further accentuate the dark atmosphere that was building. Had Inigo not built up some tolerance to such tomfoolery some time ago, he would’ve found it intimidating.

“I am far older than you could imagine, man of flesh and blood. I am as old as time, I have seen humans progress and regress - watched them slaughter their brothers and comrades in arms. I am older than the rage of dragons and the blessings of stars. I am infinite and all reaching - my wisdom having aged like fine ale -“

“Can I just get a number?”

Owain flinched and smiled sheepishly. “It’s been almost 200 years since I died. I was born in, uh, 1811? Yeah, 1811.”  
Inigo very quickly did the math, his eyes rolling back in his head as he subtracted years. “You died… When you were five?”

Owain’s excitement seemed to fade slightly, a shadow of sadness streaking across his features momentarily. He almost frowned. And as that expression took reign of Owain’s face for even just that second, Inigo found himself marvelling at the beauty of the man before him. With such a somber look, he reminded him of an old marble statue. White, melancholic and carved from raw stone by loving hands. The thought frightened him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want -“  
Owain waved his hand, dismissing Inigo swiftly. The sunniness returned to his face, and all the while Inigo’s heart thumped nervously in his chest, the feeling that something bad was about to happen was building in his gut.

“I don’t recall it vividly. I was told by my mother - that is, my vampire mother - that I was born a very sickly mortal of sensitive disposition. I became gravely ill and my birth-parents knew not what to do. I was dying, no doubt. Heh, a power as awesome as mine was not meant to last long in this world - it was simply too unfair on other mortals.” Owain smirked at that, as if proud of his own claim. Inigo shuffled nervously on the sofa, worried he was hearing something he was never meant to hear.

“My vampire mother was - _is_ \- a healer. She practices traditional medicine and has saved more innocent lives than many human so-called ‘doctors’ have. At the time she was based in my village, residing in an old, worn house at the top of a hill that once belonged to a rich, travelling merchant. Naturally, none of the villagers knew the truth about her - they knew just that she was a skilled healer; not that she was not of the same realm as they. They considered her something akin to a white witch, perhaps. Regardless, my birth-parents rushed my weakening, frail human form to her and begged her to save my life.” That over-cast look again. Inigo wanted to reach out him - ‘that’s enough, no more, it’s alright’ - but at the same time, although he already knew what was coming, he could not find it in himself to stop Owain’s tale.

“At that point there was nothing that could be done,” Owain said with a smile, though the smile did not fully conceal the sadness that Inigo could sense radiating off of him.

“And I died.”

Inigo’s grey eyes were wide having not expected to be hearing this this afternoon. Owain looked pained, his light brows furrowed, knitted together in intense contemplation for the first time since Inigo had known him. “Owain…”

The vampire grinned, all teeth again. “Twas then that my vampire mother struck a fated deal with my birth-parents. ‘I cannot save your boy’,” he said, putting on a feminine voice when emulating his mother: “‘through any means but dark ones. I can save his life, but if I do, you shall never be able to see him again. He shall live here with me and I shall become his new guardian.’” He cleared his throat firmly. “And so, loving their son above all else, my birth-parents agreed and Odin Dark came to be as my mother sank her fell fangs into my childish, pulseless neck and injected the power of darkness into my lifeless body - her poison coursing my still veins and tearing through my cold, dead flesh.” Inigo could feel his chest tightening with anxiety and found himself gripping the fabric of his loose dance-trousers in order to cling to whatever calmness he had left. His head was spinning - the pressure in apartment two was almost unbearable. 

“And that boy… Is now the undead man you see before you! Legendary vampire - Odin Dark!”

Inigo tried his best to muster a smile but was sure that it was lopsided at best. He was sweating all over with anxiety from Owain’s tense ‘performance’ and wished very much that he simply hadn’t asked at all. “Hey,” Owain said, noticing Inigo’s discomfort, "don’t worry about it.” His warm green eyes were gentle and soothing as they looked directly into Inigo’s own. “Would you like a glass of water? 

Inigo could only nod.

*

“Th-there’s something I still don’t get,” Inigo said quietly after taking a few sips of water, Owain now sitting at his side on the pleather sofa. “If you died when you were five, doesn’t that mean you’ve aged?”

Owain smiled and nodded, “as expected from Inigo from Upstairs, nothing escapes your all-seeing vision. You see, the word wench Stephenie Meyer has lied to you once again. Vampires _do_ age. Though extremely slowly. Each ‘vampire year’ is ten mortal years. Therefore, fifty mortal years is five ‘vampire years’. Fifty, fifty, fifty, fifty is twenty ‘vampire years’, thus meaning I am technically at mortal age twenty-four, twenty-five in two days time.”

Inigo nodded and Owain suddenly looked prideful of his basic math. “I get it. So the milestone is your twenty-fifth… un-birthday?”

“Uhh, simply put - yes? Your mind is as pretty as your face, Inigo from Upstairs.”

Inigo blushed heavily and shyly dropped his gaze to his lap. “D-don’t go saying things like that! It’s embarrassing!” Still, he found himself smiling nonetheless. 

“Anyway,” Inigo said firmly, standing up from the sofa, smoothing his trousers down as he did so, “I’d better head on home.”

“Of course! Don’t let me keep you,” Owain said, nodding. “If theres anything else you find yourself wanting to know before the gathering… You’re welcome back to my lair any time.”

Inigo grinned and felt relief as he edged towards the door, unable to shake the feeling that Owain wanted to be alone. “See you soon, then?”

“Indeed, see you soon!”

*

The street performance that had resulted in Owain’s appearance had begun to continue. The same black, beetle-like van was outside the apartment block again. Having just come in from watering his pitifully dry potted plants on his small balcony, Inigo spotted the familiar vehicle and quickly walked over to the window. No mistaking it - that was the car Owain had arrived in. Inigo grabbed a chair and sat down to watch it all unfold.

The same man as before stepped out of the drivers side of the car. The big, burly butler-dressed man walked over in the same quick step as he had before and opened the rear doors. Two black umbrellas appeared, but again Inigo could not see the faces or figures of the people they shielded. The two umbrellas were quickly followed by another two, after which the butler closed the rear doors and returned to the drivers seat and drove off, presumably to park somewhere. Inigo, who’d booked the day off of work especially, whistled nervously as anxiety began to creep along his spine. It would be fine. ‘Actually,’ he thought, ‘it would be fun.’

And for once, Inigo would look back and know that he was right.

*

When he turned up at a little past 5PM holding a small, neatly wrapped present he'd bought for Owain that afternoon and wearing a smart, light blue and pinstriped button-up shirt and his least-faded black jeans, Inigo wondered if he’d be underdressed. Owain always donned by the most extravagant clothes and it wasn’t as if they were competing for the title of Fanciest Neighbour, but looking messy in front of Owain’s family was a serious worry. Maybe he should change, he thought just after knocking, his fist now hovering a little way from the door should he need to knock again.

The various voices inside seemed to hush and suddenly Owain appeared at the door, shocking Inigo out of his stupor. He wasn’t underdressed it seemed - while Owain still wore black, his cape seemed to be missing from his outfit for the first time ever. About time.

“You’re here!” Owain cried, grinning widely and reminding Inigo of his large fangs (and while he was still much too embarrassed to admit it, the sight of them made him a little light-headed still). “I am here,” Inigo replied shockingly monotonously, aware immediately of how nervous he’d gotten at remembering that apartment two was now full of vampires. He was walking into a hoard of them willingly. He cursed adult life and his disregard for his personal safety.

“Please,” Owain said, moving out of the way to let Inigo in, “come in - I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

As suspected - there were four people he didn’t recognise, and two he did. One of the two was Owain of course, but the other was the tall, dark-haired, burly butler who seemed busy in the kitchen with two blonde women Inigo did not know. Was he actually a butler? Was Owain rich? Did vampires even need money?

Inigo also noticed that the apartment had been cleaned up considerably. There wasn’t any mess on the floor any longer (there was certainly no half eaten tubs of Man Chut lying around) and the furniture had been rearranged slightly. The mess of console cables that lay at the foot of the TV had been neatly tucked away, hidden from prying eyes. The dark wood table that sat on the boarder between the living area and the kitchen looked as if it had been cleaned and polished. The light was still artificial, and the atmosphere was dreadfully dreary and the air was still stale, but it looked much better. Owain too was showing that he could live independently. 

“Oh, I almost forgot - this is for you,” Inigo said, thrusting the present towards Owain who looked immediately surprised, excited beyond belief and received it with two grateful, cold hands.

“ _From you?!_ ” He screeched, causing everyone in the apartment how’d previously been conversing quietly between themselves to now turn to look at the pair of them. “An _un-birthday_ present?! Can I open it now?”

Inigo couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because of all the sharp eyes on him right now or maybe it was because he was feeling nervous or maybe it was because of how cute Owain looked. He smiled shyly, trying his best to play it off as being cool by tipping his head to the side and looking away. “Of course. It is your un-birthday after all.”

Owain wasted no time in tearing the ribbon and the wrapping paper off before screeching in excitement yet again in such a high pitch that Inigo was certain the windows would shatter. “YOU GOT ME _NARUTO SHIPPUDEN:_ _ULTIMATE NINJA STORM 3?!”_

The excitement on Owain’s face was unbelievable and heart warming. Inigo thought that people (and by people, he meant _children_ ) only ever pulled such expressions at Christmas over a particularly exciting gift. He would give Owain gifts more often, he decided.

“I was worried you’d have already played it, but I suppose you haven’t! You like it?”

“I - I _love_ it! Inigo from Upstairs… This is the best gift ever. I’ve been meaning to get my hands on this for so long… How did you know?”

Inigo smiled and opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by a sharp, “ah- _hem”_ from across the room. Inigo turned quickly and made nervous eye contact with the blonde lady from which said noise had come from. The other blonde woman smiled at her.

“Oh! Of course,” Owain said quickly, looking incredibly sheepish and shy suddenly. “Forgive me, this is Inigo from Upstairs. My friend.”  
 _Friend._ “Inigo,” he continued, gesturing to the blonde woman who’d interrupted them, “this is my Aunt Maribelle.”  
“Nice to meet you,” Inigo said as confidently as he could - painfully aware of the nervous shake to his voice that he hadn’t quite been able to hide.  
“Likewise,” Maribelle said coldly but while smiling politely nonetheless. Inigo could not help but find her shockingly pretty. She had such lovely long curled hair that looked as if it had never been touched let alone ruined by wind. He felt a one-liner brewing but told himself it wasn’t the time or place to flirt.

“This is Brady, Maribelle’s son.” Inigo paled, all of the colour draining out of his face immediately. Brady seemed to be about his age but looked incredibly intimidating - sporting a long facial scar and what seemed like a perpetual scowl. “Pleasure,” Brady said, his voice as terrifyingly gruff and as gravelly as Inigo had feared.

“My dad, Vaike,” Owain said, surprising Inigo since he had not mentioned any father figures before. The father figure in question was a tanned, built man with muscles visibly present under his clothes. His hair was a dirty-blonde, not quite as ash as Owain’s (only after thinking it would Inigo remember they were not technically related) nor as fair. “Nice t’ meetcha! We’ve been hearing a lot about ya,” Vaike laughed, his accent more common than Inigo expected, with an underlying twang that suggested that he wasn’t from the area - but Inigo failed to pinpoint where it originated from. Furthermore, he had a great, friendly smile which Inigo appreciated after the fear Brady had instilled in him. But most of all - Owain had been _talking_ about him? To his _father_? Inigo knew for a fact that he was blushing up to his ears already.

“And then there’s Freddy -“ a stern look from the burly butler who Inigo guessed was Freddy -“I mean, _Frederick._ He’s our butler - well, technically my Uncle Chrom’s butler, but, ah, it’s complicated. He’s not a vampire, by the way,” Inigo _immediately_ became anxious at that comment, his spine shocking straight and his muscles tensing: “he’s a werewolf.”

“ _W-werewo -_ “

“It’s good to finally meet you, Inigo from Upstairs. Though I must say, you are far smaller than I had expected.”

Inigo could merely swallow thickly and nervously. Owain had _not_ mentioned that a werewolf was a part of their family. He’d definitely stand no chance against Frederick in a fight if push came to shove and he had to brawl for his life. Furthermore, weren’t werewolves the sworn enemies of vampires? Frederick definitely had a certain Jacob look to him. ‘Oh, my head is spinning’, Inigo thought. ‘I want to lie down.’

A quick, anxious glance to his side and Inigo saw that Owain looked as if he was about to contest something Frederick had said, but was cut off before he could speak. “Oh! Oh!” The other blonde woman previously ignored cried excitedly, jumping around a little childishly. “Me next! Am I next?” Inigo glanced at Owain and saw him now smiling proudly, with eyes so soft Inigo almost melted himself even though they weren’t aimed at him. Never had he seen such adoration for another in someone else's eyes. 

“This,” Owain announced, “is my wonderful mother, Lissa.”

Lissa bounded over to where they stood near the doorway, taking hold of Inigo’s sweaty hands as soon as she was close enough. “Hey there!” She chirped as Inigo blushed at the sudden contact. She was undeniably beautiful - skin as white fine bone china and large crystal-blue/green-depending-on-the-light eyes. Her fingers felt cold wrapped around his hands and unlike Vaike, Inigo found himself noticing just how much she looked like Owain. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they were related by blood. “H-hello,” he stuttered, a little more enamoured than he should’ve been over his friend’s mother, and far more embarrassed at being stared at so intently than he wanted to be.

“Ohhh, Owain you were right,” she said, still gazing at Inigo who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with her close proximity; “he really _does_ have beautiful eyes!”

Inigo bloomed crimson, his olive skin turning red immediately as all of the blood rushed to his face, his jaw muscles becoming weak. He was embarrassed. His heart was beating so quickly he thought he’d pass out. Everyone was staring and he wanted to run. Oh, god, he could feel it coming again. Not now, don’t have an attack now. Had Owain really said that? And this contact was making him even more embarrassed. He lamented over being unable to eat the emergency Adult Snack he’d bought with him.

And then Owain stepped in unprompted and as cool as ice, gently prising Lissa’s cold hands away from Inigo’s hot, shaky, sweat-drenched ones. “Inigo likes a little space, mom,” he said softly: “I know you love to be touchy-feely, but for tonight - or just until he's comfortable and says so - do you think we could go hands-off?”

Lissa looked horrified up at Inigo, her hands now flying to cover her open mouth. “I am _so_ sorry! I had no idea! I won’t touch you again.” Inigo nodded and gave a quiet, sincere thank you, don’t worry about it, but was aware that he wasn’t quite there in the moment. Owain’s reaction and gentle words had surprised and warmed him at the same time. He felt calmer thanks to his soft words even though they weren’t directed at him, and the kind way in which he explained it to his mother to spare her feelings and also his own was charming and unexpectedly thoughtful. Just how observant had he been these past few weeks of them knowing each other? Inigo wondered if he’d ever had a friend as silently understanding as Owain - a friend so conscious as to what made him uncomfortable that they always actively tried their best to make him feel safe.

“A-and yeah!” Owain spluttered, his childish voice relaxing again; “he _does_ have p-pretty _decent_ eyes - _f-for a mortal_ , that is!”

Everyone laughed at that (even Brady, Inigo noted with fear) and so did he - albeit a little shakily. But he felt safe with Owain at his side. He knew that the people before him weren’t bad (perhaps Brady permitting? He was as of yet completely uncharted waters) or dangerous, but they could still attack him, wound him, kill him. But Owain was there and Owain was comfort, safety and peace. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Inigo thought as he took his place at the dark wood dining table, briefly admiring the sparkling silverware, ‘if they’re human or vampires. A human could kill me just as easily as a vampire could, after all.’

“Anyway,” Lissa announced happily, “let’s get this par-tay started!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a monster of chapter and it _was_ going to be longer but it's _so_ dialogue and plot heavy that I figured I cut it in half for ease of reading! The dinner and dancing (read: fun stuff) will be happening next time!
> 
> Also just some notes/extra trivia for you all:  
> \- The apartments are actually based off of apartment blocks near me! The middle and top floors have little balconies at the back! Obviously there's nothing on Owain's, but Inigo _does_ try his best to keep some plants out there, but forgets to water them a lot.  
>  \- Vaike/Lissa until I die. Vaike's personality is SO good for being Owain's father. I love Vaike!Owain but obviously Owain technically isn't Vaike!Owain in this fic... Hmm.  
> \- Inigo's father (who I will leave unnamed so you can choose a father for him if you have a preference) is Lon'qu in my mind (but it doesn't really matter, he won't be showing up lol), however Inigo's hair is his official art colour of grey. Furthermore, as "Inigo" is a Spanish name, I am _super_ enthusiastic about non-white or mixed-race Inigo - in this case, his father (whoever you decide that is) is hispanic and Olivia is caucasian.
> 
> As always - thanks for your comments! If you have any ideas for this AU feel free to drop 'em below or hit me up at tumblr ([@holyrobo](http://holyrobo.tumblr.com/)) or twitter ([@oofurry](http://twitter.com/oofurry))! See you soon! ♡


	6. How Many Breads Have You Eaten in Your Life?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner party picks up from where it left off. Quite predictably, Inigo's suffering continues.  
> The score increases: Odin Dark - 2, Inigo From Upstairs - 1

Frederick was a whizz in the kitchen. With Maribelle and Brady's aid, a feast of very human (or, at least, human- _looking_ ) food was cooked up right before Inigo's eyes. As he sat squashed between Owain and Vaike on the pleather sofa, Owain chattering excitedly about something or the other (Inigo had managed to zone him out some time ago since his arrival) he wondered why they gathered to eat human food when they could take no nutrition from it. Could they even digest it? Hell, could vampires even shit? The latter question rolled around Inigo's mind for a while before he decided that he'd rather not know. Some things, he figured, as with everything regarding Adult Life, were better left unknown, including Owain’s bowel movements or lack of such. But all that blood had to go somewhere, right? And so did the food they were about to eat? Maybe he’d ask sometime in the future when the unlikely pair were a bit closer or when Owain inevitably, and he would bring it up in conversation himself.

Regardless, Inigo thought that the food really was impressive. Roast chicken, tender looking beef, crisp, but undoubtedly fluffy on the inside potatoes, many vegetables that Inigo figured he could have a good stab at naming, but was sure he hadn’t eaten before. Fresh, home-made breads. The steam from the bowls rose into the air, swirled and dissipated. The more he looked up and down the wooden table which was now getting filled up slowly with different dishes and components, Inigo found sadness sparking inside him. 'What a waste,' he thought, 'of food and culinary talent.' Of course, an exceptionally good cook would be a werewolf who was also a butler to a family of vampires. The most talented of individuals are the most cursed. Whoops, he was starting to sound like Odin Dark. He ended his train of thought almost as quickly as it had started.

“Inigo," Lissa purred as the odd band of seven took their places at the table. "Please, eat as much as you like! Any leftovers are yours too since you're the best home for them.” She flashed him a coy smile. It wouldn’t have been out of place for her to end her sentence with a girlish “tee-hee”.

"Thank you," he said returning the smile, actually pretty grateful for any potential leftovers. It meant that hopefully, he wouldn't have to cook for a day or two or so. Beside him Owain forcefully pulled his chair closer to the table, causing a dreadful screeching sound. Inigo flinched visibly and so did everyone else. Brady cleared his throat roughly. " _So_ , we are all here for a reason," he announced gruffly, Inigo's muscles involuntarily tensing again in unwarranted fear. "Happy 200th, cuz."

"Happy 200th!" Came the merry cheer of everyone at the table save for Inigo who hadn't known it was coming. Glasses of what Inigo was telling himself was grape juice clinked as he added, "h-happy 200th,” to the cheer very quietly. Owain was beaming, giving off light as if the sun. Inigo looked away, suddenly feeling very shy indeed.

 

Conversation at the dinner table was oddly normal and for a while, Inigo felt as if he was back home having dinner with his own parents. Lissa and Vaike clearly doted on Owain - having let slip that they'd been sending him "reliably sourced" care packages until he found his own footing — and Brady didn't seem all _that bad_ either. Maribelle was cold, but by no means unpleasant. Inigo admired her impeccable manners and stunning beauty. It went without a hitch. There were no fights (well, almost one, but only because Brady had taken the last potato which Owain was _convinced_ was his by birthday — or rather, _death_ day — rights), no arguments. Inigo almost forgot that he was dining with the undead. In fact, it seemed almost as if they’d forgotten he was even there until the dinner began to draw to a close. Vaike spoke up, grinning still (had he even stopped? Inigo was beginning to get tired of his constant cheeriness. It was exhausting) in his direction. “So, Inigo, what do you do?”

“Oh, I work as a receptionist at a gym. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s good enough for me, at least, good enough for me right now,” he laughed nervously, “and, I mean, it has its perks.”

“Yeah? Like wha’?” Brady joined in, sounding far more aggressive than he actually felt, Inigo assumed. It had taken a whole dinner but he felt like he was finally starting to understand Brady.

“Well,” he said quietly, his cheeks reddening a little as he wondered if this was too much to be sharing or whether it would backfire horribly for him; “the owners of the gym let me use the dance studio after work by myself for free…” Nervously, Inigo scratched his cheek and looked away sheepishly. There was that horrible anxiety building in his stomach again, the feeling that they were going to ask _that_ , and the last thing Inigo wanted was to a) have a panic attack in front of Owain’s family, or b) have to actually face the embarrassment of doing _that_ in front of Owain’s family. All so suddenly, Inigo had found himself in a lose-lose situation. It had backfired horribly.

Oh, God, it’s coming. Please, not now.

“You’re a _dancer_?! Are you a dancer?!” Lissa squealed, clapping her hands together in the purest display of excitement Inigo had ever seen.

“Y-yes, I suppose you could call me that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Inigo caught Owain smile to himself. He’d never seen him looking so intrigued before.

“Hm. Would you show us something?” Frederick said. “We gave you dinner, surely you would supply the show?”

Ah, there it was. Inigo’s stomach churned. 

Instinctively and without realising, he looked to Owain for comfort. Owain was now looking right back at him with concerned eyes. A question seemed to linger in them — do you want me to stop this? I can protect you from this. Inigo didn’t doubt that he could stop this from happening, but Owain’s protectiveness, gentleness and care gave him a different feeling. It was strange — a do or die feeling, but with less of the die and more of the do. Inigo could do this, he realised. And why shouldn't he? He was a damn good dancer. He wanted to show Owain’s family that he was a talented, put-together adult. He wanted to show Owain that even more so. ‘But why?’ He asked himself. He didn’t understand why he wanted to impress Owain so much, the man - _dead man_ \- who had dragged him quite rudely into some of the most awkward, terrifying and _annoying_ situations over the last few weeks. Inigo couldn’t believe it - did he really want to be friends with the vampire downstairs? Pull yourself together, man, a strong voice inside himself said firmly. Get the job done. 

Inigo looked away from Owain. “I can show you some, um, freestyle maybe? I’ll have to change into something, uh, something a bit _looser_ , but it won’t take me long to do that.”

Maribelle seemed delighted — probably at the thought of finally getting dinner and a show, Inigo thought. She did seem the type, after all. “Brady can play you something on the violin to dance to.”

Brady looked a little annoyed that he had just been dragged into the performance too, but Inigo had a feeling that his disdain was for show. “I guess. It’s true I didn’t bring my violin for nothin’, ma.”

“ _Mother_ ,” Maribelle corrected.

Playful mother and son bickering ensured and Inigo used that as an excuse to begin slinking towards the door. Owain got up and followed, still wearing the expression of concern he’d donned a moment ago. “Are you sure?” He whispered to Inigo just as he was about to leave, his hand curled around the doorknob. “I’m sure.” Inigo’s smile was genuine. If not for the low, artificial lighting of Flat Two, Inigo would’ve said Owain had blushed. Also if Owain had blood flowing through his veins. Which he might - Inigo thought, but at the same time, he probably didn’t.

Inigo would never have described himself as a confident person, he thought as he quickly downgraded from a shirt and jeans to a baggy t-shirt and loose dance trousers. A big chunk of that was probably down to the constant anxiety, but also because of his innate shyness, an underlying self-consciousness that lurked so far inside his psyche that he wasn't always aware of it himself. But even the least confident of the unconfident are likely to be at least a little self-assured at something that they can only do, he told himself. Inigo was confident on his feet, the swish of his arms and the languid rolling of his abs — his snake hips. All he had to do was forget that he wasn't the only person in the room (at least, he thought, he was the only human/alive person in the room, and that thought helped to bring out that confidence). So for the first time in a long time, Inigo shook sense and confidence into himself. God damn it, he was going to impress these supernatural monsters and score a point for the Alive Team. And after he’d finish dancing, Owain was going to say: “Wow! I definitely don't want to drink all of the blood in your body now because you are a cool dancer so lets be friends but also I will leave you alone more because now I understand that you like your space.” Or something like that. Inigo slapped his cheeks a healthy pink, took a deep breath and said, “fuck it.”

* 

Of course, his bravado has dissipated on the trip from the top floor to the bottom floor and suddenly, stood outside the faded metal lettering readying ‘Flat 2’, Inigo felt his stomach drop out of his body and splatter on the floor like a dropped pork chop on kitchen tile. For a moment, the sicky feeling that was creeping up his throat offered a release — throw up and don’t dance, blame it on one-too-many roast potatoes. Inigo was just turning away from the door to retreat upstairs when the door opened and he was greeted by the sharp eyes of Owain from behind it. “I heard you breathing. Don’t wait out here, come on, everyones excited to see this.”

‘Oh, yes,’ Inigo thought, faking a smile the best he could and walking back in to the lions den, ‘of course he can hear me breathing. Of course.’

 *

They wasted no time. Inigo adopted Plan B - get it over and done with as quick as possible. Brady’s violin playing is quick and sharp and Inigo felt the jig rise through his feet, up through the bones in his legs and into his stomach. From there, the rhythm changed, sparking up from his stomach and dispersing throughout his body like electricity. His years of practice jolted him to life, his body moving without his mind and suddenly the fear that’d gripped him minutes ago had melted away. No longer was he in a room full of scary supernatural beings, but back in the gym studio, back in Olivia's bedroom, back in the town hall with her leading the dance lesson for the village children. His arms became fluid and his muscles relaxed and thighs tightened under his loose dance trousers. It was as natural as breathing, and he hoped, while lost in the throes of freestyle along to Brady's rather excellent violin playing, that this would continue the way it had started. The great Odin Dark stirred in his seat. Of course, Inigo assumed, that the perspective he had looked better than the ones everyone else had. He saw himself as the centre of the hurricane, his arms becoming the beautiful swirls of air around it. From the outside, he probably looked like a hurricane too. Crazy, fast and destructive. Thank god for Owain’s general lack of furniture otherwise something would’ve probably been broken by now. Just thinking about it sent Inigo’s cheeks red - or maybe it was the dancing getting his heart rate up.

When his dance finished and Brady lowered his violin, Inigo felt his breath shaking him. He was breathing heavily enough for everyone in the room who failed to breathe. His heart beat pounded in his ears, deafening him. A curious slapping sound soon drowned out his heart beating. Rhythmic and not unlike a heart beat itself, loud and powerful.

Everyone was clapping. Applauding him and Brady for their collaboration. Brady took his place next to Inigo and bowed, pushing down on Inigo’s back to make him bow also. The iciness of his hand on his hot back snapped Inigo back to reality. You like me, you really like me. 

“Inigo, that was amazing!” Owain shouted from his seat across the room. He was grinning ear to ear. Inigo felt his cheeks grow hotter at the sight of an attractive man smiling so openly to him. “Thank you,” he mouthed in response, silent from breathlessness. “Thank you”.

*

Years in the future, Inigo would look back on the undead dinner party he'd danced at for his supernatural neighbour-come-acquaintance and feel warm.  He'd run his fingers across the glossy surface of a polaroid photograph that had been taken by Frederick on an old-fashioned camera, one with the cloth the photographer had to duck behind and he would smile. He'd skip over his own face - God he was mightily good-looking then - but he would linger on Owain's. So pale, so handsome. 'What a good night,' he'd think. 'Yes, that was the beginning of it all.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's been almost a year and yes, I will still update this hideous fic because it is still my child almost a year later. I've done a year of University studying English, so this is nothing if not good practice for my creative writing module, however I actually wrote this chapter months ago and am too lazy to edit it.
> 
> For those who read this almost a year ago, welcome back! And for newcomers... Welcome to Hell! Welcome to Hell! Welcome to Hell!


	7. Still A Better Love Story Than Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love is a lot like Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga. It kind of sucks, goes on for ages, and Robert Pattinson is there.
> 
> The score increases: Odin Dark - 3, Inigo From Upstairs - 2

The last few weeks had been a blur. The changing of seasons happened before anyone had noticed, and summer had flown south again to make room for the winter. Inigo was floating, lost in a daze and filled with thoughts he couldn’t decipher, feelings of anxiety resurfacing every time he passed the door to Flat Two. The sound of violin music made his stomach bubble with nerves, and it had been like this for the past month-and-a-bit. It wasn’t only the seasons changing, and Inigo knew that, but couldn’t put his finger on what else was evolving also. Even when Olivia would call on a Sunday evening to check in with him, she’d been surprised to hear Inigo struggling to recall what he’d been up to that week. It didn’t worry her — she knew her son well enough to know exactly what was the matter. He had things on his mind — big things — things he probably didn’t even realise that he was thinking about. It had made him tired, anxious and more worried than usual, but she knew it would only be for a little while. He’d pull himself out of his funk soon — there just had to be a catalyst to set it off.

Since Owain’s party, Inigo had made a habit of spending time outside by himself when he didn’t actually _need_ to be outside by himself. It was good to be out of the flat. It was scary and uncomfortable most of the time, but he found that bit by bit, he was becoming more comfortable in a variety of different places — one of which was steadily becoming a new favourite of his was the local digital entertainment store. It was babe-heaven, and with each smoothly delivered chat-up line Inigo could feel himself growing more confident, but aside from all the pretty girls buying boy-band albums, Inigo found himself enjoying scouring through CDs, vinyl records (which he had been eyeing up — all the kids today were collecting them and he wanted in, he figured it fit his new, or at least work-in-progress comfortable-and-cool persona he had) and DVDs. It was relaxing and interesting to see all that the youth of today were into and listening to — he’d lost touch with what was cool a while ago.

But there was one issue. Inigo didn’t own a DVD player. His television didn’t have one built into it and he never really watched TV enough to warrant getting a new one with a DVD player and since he didn’t have a DVD collection to begin with, he’d never thought of buying a separate DVD player. But there it was. Out of the corner of his eye, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon after his morning shift working at the gym reception had finished. It had been waiting for him. Half-price, reduced to clear and beautiful. Adults didn’t really believe in fate - Inigo reminded himself, but maybe, just maybe, this time fate was showing him something that could be potentially wonderful.

*

Inigo knocked on Owain’s door with the ferocity of a man gone wild. He had always had a spontaneous side to his personality, but he figured he’d out-done himself on this one, but it didn’t really matter because it wasn’t as if he’d spent an extortionate amount. His bank account was still happy. It was a date — well, no, not a date _date,_ but a date that two friends would arrange. Just friends - _innocent_ , regular friends. Vampire dude and human dude. That was what bros and neighbours did together, right? Well, that was what was going to happen anyway, Inigo declared to himself. This was platonic. And anyway, it was about time they undertook this rite together. It would be a test of their friendship.

Owain opened the door slightly, his eyes peeking through the crack to see which one of his many fans were so eager to see him this time. His legs went to jelly for a second seeing that before him was none other than his rival-turned-friend-but-still-rival Inigo from Upstairs. It had been a while since he’d seen him - not since his party a fair few weeks ago. Owain wasn’t sure why, but he felt as if Inigo had been politely avoiding him since then. It was as if something had changed in the dynamic that they’d built up - or at least, something was in the process of changing. Was it because Inigo was a little shy? Had inviting him over to meet his family been too much too soon? Owain didn’t know, but he was aware at least of when someone needed space and time to work themselves out — and after all, Owain had all the time in the world to give his rival.

It had been lonely, but now Inigo was before him, looking as if he was about to burst his seams from excitement. He forgot his loneliness.

“I don’t suppose you have a DVD player?” Inigo asked, grinning ear to ear as Owain let him inside. Owain merely grinned in response, closing the front door behind Inigo and walking back over to where _Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 3_ was paused. “Just whom do you think you are talking to?” He chuckled, “I have DVD, Blu-Ray and VHS players. Odin Dark, immortal as he may be, also enjoys a good boxset series in his downtime between mighty battles.”

It was like the party was only yesterday. Things clicked back into place with surprising ease and Owain wondered if Inigo had even realised that he hadn’t seen him in at least six weeks.

“Grand! Because, oh _boy_ do I have a present for you,” Inigo exclaimed as he sat down on the hideous pleather sofa he’d once woken up on all those months ago, holding out the paper bag in which the DVD he’d bought sat patiently. He knew how much Owain liked surprise presents.

Sitting down next to Inigo, Owain took the bag from him and peered inside. “Oh, wo, what’s this?”

Inigo could not contain his shit-eating grin as Owain pulled the 2009 classic DVD release of Stephanie Meyer’s _Twilight_ from the bag. “I thought we could watch it together, my little blood-sucking friend.”  
Owain stared at the cover for a few moments, silently and with great concentration. The cogs in his brain whirred at an alarming speed. His palms grew sweaty, his knees weak. He could’ve sworn that his heart - unbeaten for over two hundred years, started to beat again. “Inigo,” he said staring still at Robert Pattinson’s handsome face, “is this a date?”

Inigo leapt up from the pleather sofa as if he’d just been given the biggest fright of his life. His arms were spaghetti, waving in front of him — “No! No not a date! I mean, I don’t th-think so! _Maybe_? Um, yea - I mean! No! W-would you call this a date? Why would you think that? Is this a d-date?”  
Owain quickly wiped the smirk off of his face and instead stared at Inigo blank-faced, completely serious and deadpan. “Inigo, you know that in _vampire culture_ , giving someone a copy of _Twilight_ , DVD, Blu-Ray or book, is equal to humans getting on one knee with a ring, right?”

Inigo was bright red at this point, his cheeks glowing like coloured lightbulbs. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sweat was pouring down his back with reckless abandon and he could swear he could actually feel his bowls make a sudden movement.

“NAH!” Owain laughed, unable to hold it back any longer. “It doesn’t mean that. I’m kidding! It was a joke! Inigo From Upstairs you are a dastardly foe, but alas, a gullible one. ’Twas no test for the mighty wit of Odin Dark to trick you into submission with his mere mighty words.”

Inigo, still stiff with residual panic, managed to squeeze nothing out of his mouth save for, “may I use your bathroom, please?”

*

Another thing that Inigo had come to understand about independent adult life is that a lot of the most important thinking happens on the toilet with your trousers around your ankles. His bowls were fine, as it turned out, but his mind and heart definitely weren’t. It had hit him, even though he realised in retrospect that it was a joke of Owains, but this was, indeed a date. Inigo had been, or at least trying to, ignore the fact that since their very first meeting, he’d been drawn to Owain in ways that he’d never felt drawn to anyone else. There was a bond there, strong, but lying in the undercurrent of the ridiculous situation. It wasn’t love, but it was something. Something that drew him to Owain even though he didn’t want to be drawn to him. It wasn’t a choice of his — but a choice the universe itself made. Of all the times he’d been rejected by pretty girls and boys and he’d brushed it off, not really cared too much and just carried on - this, he realised, would break his heart. If Owain was to reject any advance he made, he’d probably cry. Well, no, that was an understatement, he’d probably move out of his apartment, change his name to something that didn’t suit him at all, something like ‘Laslow’ or whatever, _and_ dye his hair, which would be a pain because he totally rocked his natural grey do.

A knock on the bathroom door. “Have you fallen in?”

“I-I’m coming now!” Quickly pulling his underwear and jeans back up, Inigo breathed out. It was okay. _He_ was okay. He was better than he had been - at least now he _knew_ what he was feeling. Better to not be in the dark anymore, but to know you want the Dark in you - _Oh God, NO_ , don’t even think about that. Inigo was sweaty all over again.

He washed his hands and opened the bathroom door, seeing right into the living room. Owain was walking back from the kitchen on the far side of the room carrying two mugs. He placed them on the low table in front of the pleather sofa and smiled. “I made hot chocolate. Hope you don’t mind milk alternative because that dairy milk shit is nasty.”

Inigo laughed, feeling calmer already as he took his seat next to Owain again. “Are you joking? You literally kill people to drink their blood - which you don’t even _like_.”

“Touché, but I still don’t want to touch-é that milk-é.”

The joke wasn't even that funny, but combined with his nerves, Inigo laughed so hard he snorted and that set Owain off laughing too. Everything was calm amidst the laughter of Flat Two, everything was alright. Inigo took back his earlier mental statement. He was in love. Deeply, madly, and painfully in love for the first time. He accepted his fate as Bella Swan, and hoped to God that he’d handle it better than she did.

“Are we going to watch this film then?” Owain asked, sipping his hot chocolate. Inigo nodded and passed him the DVD. “Have you seen it before?”

“Nah,” Owain said, “but I’ve heard about it and stuff. Mom loves it. It sounds like an unrealistic portrayal of vampire life and culture but R-Pats is easy on the eye so I can forgive a lot of inaccurate stuff.”  
“He’s dreamy, but I’m more of a Jacob fan, myself.”

Owain shot him the dirtiest look he could muster over his shoulder as he slipped the DVD into the player. “Don’t get cocky, Inigo From Upstairs, while thou are swiftly becoming my favourite adversity, you hath forget that the mighty Odin Dark can kill you in one fell swoop if he so desired to.”   
Inigo just smiled, “you don’t scare me anymore. You forget that Inigo From Upstairs has, uh, special moves of his own.”  
“Oh yeah?” Owain purred, making his way back over to Inigo on the sofa, sitting right next to him, the outside of their thighs touching ever so softly, “like what?”  
Inigo, hyperaware of the contact between them now, even though Owain hadn’t noticed, began turning red again. “Uh, like; um. Can I get back to you on that one, chap? My improvisation skills aren’t as good as yours.” Good escape.  
Owain smiled widely at receiving the compliment, his eyes glinting from the light of the menu screen on his television. “Sure thing,” he said as he pressed play.

*

“So, what do you think?” Inigo asked, stretching his legs out after the solid two hours and ten minutes of Stephenie Meyer’s _Twilight_ had finished. Owain had talked throughout the film, which had been annoying but nonetheless entertaining.

“Well, first of all,” Owain said, shifting to face Inigo directly; “the apple thing he does with his foot? Totally done with a fake apple or at least a string through the apple. Odin Dark? On a good day, I could probably do that without the string. Also, the thing about sparkling is wrong. I don’t know how much sunscreen Edward Cullen wears but if I go out in the sun for as long as he does, I’ll crisp up and will be smelling like aloe-vera aftersun for months.”  
“So, did you like it or..?”  
“Oh, hell yeah. I loved it, when are we watching the next one?”

Inigo laughed again and revelled in the idea that this would become a regular thing. Maybe he didn’t have to put a label on it, maybe the two of them could just hang out without ‘dating’. Maybe they could just be friends. As long as he had this friendship with Owain, Inigo figured he’d be alright.

“There is one thing about Edward Cullen that I wish was true,” Owain said, looking a little sheepish.  
“Oh? I thought you hated him.”  
“I do! He’s totally wrong, I don’t know any vampires like him _at all._ But yeah, I wish I was more confident like him and the other vampires introduced so far.”

Inigo’s heart melted a little bit. “Owain, you’re the most confident person I know.”

“Nah, it’s Odin Dark that’s confident — not _me_. Odin Dark could probably get his Bella Swan just by saying ‘hi’ to her. Anyway, this is dumb, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I don’t even feel like, torn up about it or anything. This is just a hypothetical.”

Inigo saw his chance to shine. “Look, if there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s being confident with girls. You just have to be straight with them. Honestly, girls just love _honesty_ — it’s not _all_ about confidence. Owain is just fine the way he is; actually, I think that _Odin Dark_ could learn a few things from _Owain_!” Inigo placed his hand on Owain’s ice cold shoulder and grinned. His insides felt soupy, and his fingers tingled with the sensation of touching the vampire’s arm. “Plus,” he continued, “if you say nothing at all about how you feel towards something, your chance of changing your relationship with that person stays at zero. Yeah, you might get rejected, but at the same time, you might _not_ , you know? It really is that easy.” It’s not easy at all, Inigos mind said to himself; you’re a hypocrite and a fraud

Owain seemed to be deeply processing all of the advice that he’d received, and noticing that it’d gotten late, Inigo stood up to make his leave but felt unable to go. What kind of man would give someone advice that they couldn’t follow themselves? What kind of _adult_? The ache in his chest said that it was only going to get worse the longer he left it, and a thick black fog of anxiety started to seep up his legs and into the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, are you going?” Owain said, standing to show Inigo out.  
“Y-yeah, it’s late and I’ve, uh, got work in the morning,” he said, moving closer to the door. He was biting back the vomit threatening to burst out of him, his heart was beating like crazy. The thudding in his chest was so loud it gave him away.  
“Inigo, I can hear your heartbeat. Are you having a panic atta -“

“You know what, Owain, yes, this was a date today. It was a date and I really enjoyed it because I like you. Like, I like you only a little bit but the feelings are there and, yeah,” Inigo’s mouth ran like a steam train, and confessing to someone you _actually_ liked was a lot harder than saying it to someone you could forget easily by the next day. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed. His shoes looked awfully scuffed, he noticed as he stared at them, really should’ve shined them this morning.

Owain was grinning like a fool. He bent down to look at Inigo’s face, which was down, facing the floor. “Do you like me or like- _like_ me?”  
Inigo took a step back, backing against the locked front door. No escape. “I-I’m n-not ready for like- _like_ yet!”

Owain smirked, leaning back and folding his arms smugly. “I can roll with like.” His smile slowly faded as he sheepishly added, “that means that was my first ever date, then, you know?”

“You’ve _never_ been on a date before?”

Owain shrugged, “I’m over 200 years old, I’m allergic to garlic and the _sun;_ I have a naruto-sona and a D &D character that I have literally merged into my own personality, I don’t leave my flat, oh and _also_ \- I drink blood to stay alive and I don’t even like it? You really think many people have asked me out on a date?”

With his heart rate coming down, Inigo let the breath he’d been holding leave his body. It was fine. It had all worked out fine. “You have a _naruto-sona_? Can I retract this date we’ve just had?”

“No take-backs.”

“Damn,” Inigo laughed. He realised that he’d learnt a powerful lesson in the last five minutes — adults trust themselves to take risks. The ones that count pay off.

“So,” Owain said, smiling sheepishly, “I’ll let you go to bed. Come see me tomorrow and we can talk properly, yeah? I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

Inigo nodded. “Good night, Owain.”  
“Good night, Inigo.”

*

It was on the stairs up to Flat Three that Inigo, his legs shaking with adrenaline, heard Owain being loud on the phone. 

“ _MOM, I GOT A DATE!_ ”

He could even hear the scream of happiness that came in reply down the receiver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me six months to update this and I wrote the whole chapter in a DAY! Like, I literaly wrote all of this today.
> 
> If you're still following this fic, I love you. I love you so much. If you've been here since the beginning, I love you and fear you because you're powerful to be holding on to this for as long as it has been going.
> 
> I'm at University, in my second year now studying English and Creative Writing. It is hard to write this between all of the other things I have to write but I would rather DIE than leave this unfinished because I love it so much.
> 
> Also: yay! Finally we're getting somewhere after over 20,000 words Inigo and Owain are happening. Plot is coming next chapter, which may happen this year. Who knows. I'm not making any promises.
> 
> Please feel free to bully me to write this on Twitter, where I can be found at [@snotgrl](www.twitter.com/snotgrl).
> 
> See you again soon! - Amy


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